


Let Your Anger Out (It'll Help Eventually)

by Illusinia



Series: SHIELD Insanity [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coulson wants to throw Ward out of a plane, F/M, Father!Coulson, Gen, Jasper punches Phil, fighting ahead-lots of fighting, people may want to kill Coulson after this, unplanned pregnancy (past), warnings- no actual resolution of issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusinia/pseuds/Illusinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson gets some news he wasn't ever expecting to receive, and Skye gets a family she wasn't planning on ever finding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was very much on the fence about releasing this story. I wanted to wait a bit until I had better established Rowen's presence in SHIELD and her history with them. That being said, when I was watching the episodes of Agents of SHIELD recently, I realized that releasing it now, while the relevant episodes weren't too far behind, was probably better. Especially because this story is less about their past relationship at SHIELD but rather their present one. So, hopefully I'm not releasing this too early.
> 
> Also, my apologies on the tense used in this chapter. I changed it one way, then changed it back, then changed it again so there may be the occasional inconsistencies. However, if I stare at it any longer, I'm just going to screw it up. The next chapter may also be in another tense set from this one, just a quick warning. If I do that, I'll fix it later. At this point, it's just doing more harm than good.
> 
> Illusinia

_This can't be right. There's no way any of this is right. It's not possible. Everything can't just be a lie...can it? Can it all have been a charade? Some kind of twisted, sick joke? Is that even possible?_

 

_Could Rowen be that dark of a person?_

 

Phil stared at the results in front of him, his mind still refusing to process any of it. Refusing to acknowledge any of this as the truth. For it to be the truth, Rowen would have to be almost his age and she's just...not. She's his friend, why would she lie to him about any of this? Why would she keep this from him?

 

_Maybe she's not as much of a friend as you thought. Maybe this was all planned. The attack on the SHIELD helicarrier, Loki stabbing you, maybe it was all intentional. Maybe she knew the whole time._

 

_Stop. Breathe. Relax. Think._

 

It's like a mantra running through his head over and over. A silent reminder to remain calm, to ask questions but not jump to conclusions. He's an investigator, questions and puzzles are his game. Sighing, he picked up the DNA profiles again, hoping to make some sense of what he's seeing- to spot another conclusion than his initial one when he first saw the reports. He's starting to regret asking Simmons to run them to begin with.

 

\-------------------------

 

“ _Simmons, I need you to run something for me.” Phil's calm tone startled the poor scientist, causing her to jump a bit just before she nearly knocked over her work spinning to look at him. She was quick to try and straighten her appearance though, in an attempt to look like the calm, competent scientist she is._

 

“ _Yes, sir,” stated Simmons, her hands fidgeting to clear some space on her work table for whatever Phil needed her to run. “What is it you need?”_

 

_Smiling a bit in an attempt to calm Simmons some (he really hadn't meant to startle or fluster her in any way), Phil gestured towards her centerfuge and computers. “Did you take Skye's DNA?”_

 

“ _Yes, just earlier today,” confirmed Simmons, her brow furrowing. “Was there a problem with that? It's standard procedure, though I haven't uploaded the information yet. It just finished running not long ago. I can certainly destroy the results if you'd like, though why you'd want me to do that I couldn't guess but given Skye was formerly in a bit of trouble I could see why we wouldn't want her DNA in the system. I mean, it wouldn't do for someone to come looking for her to arr-”_

 

“ _Simmons,” interrupted Phil, sensing the tangent that's about to start up if he doesn't interfere. “That's fine. You're following protocol. I'm not asking you to destroy anything.” Watching the young scientist relax, Phil continued calmly. “I was just going to ask if you could run her DNA through the SHIELD database when you're done processing it. That's all.”_

 

_Furrowing her brow, Simmons offered him a confused look. “Why is that, sir?”_

 

“ _Because I just want to know if she shows up anywhere else,” explained Phil with a sigh. “It's a long shot, but it's possible we might be able to find out more about Skye and where she comes from. I just don't want to tell her before I have something.”_

 

“ _You don't want to get her hopes up,” surmised Simmons with a nod. “And you want me to keep this a secret.”_

 

“ _If you could,” confirmed Phil. “Like I said, I don't want to get her hopes up. But we have an extensive database between the SHIELD personnel and the database of people we've detained or arrested.”_

 

“ _I'll run the DNA as soon as I can,” agreed Simmons easily. “Though it will be hard to hide it from Fitz.”_

 

“ _Try,” insisted Phil, not budging a bit on this matter. He didn't want what he was doing to get back to Skye. If they came up short, like he was positive they would, he didn't want to let her down. “If you have to tell him, fine, but make sure he doesn't mention it to Skye.”_

 

_Simmons shot Phil a concerned look, finally stopping her fidgeting hands as she leaned forward against her lab table. “You're really worried about this.”_

 

“ _Yes.” He has every reason to be. Letting Skye down is like kicking a puppy and he's already had to keep so much from her, he doesn't want to keep any more than he needs to. “How long until you can run the scans.”_

 

_Simmons reached over, clicking a few keys on her computer without glancing up at Phil. “I just started them. They have to run the entire database but it might finish by tonight.”_

 

“ _Alright,” sighed Phil, nodding. It would be a long wait, but it would have been longer if Skye knew he was doing this. Besides, it wasn't his life these scans would effect. “Just let me know when they finish.”_

 

“ _Yes, sir,” confirmed Simmons with a nod. “I'll print the results for you then delete the scan too, so no one will know we ever ran it if you'd like.”_

 

_Nodding once, Phil forced himself to relax as his eyes drifted to the computer. “Thank you, Simmons. If there's a problem, come find me.” With that, Phil had left the lab without a second thought. After all, it's Skye's past the scans would reveal. None of this was really going to impact him outside of what it did to Skye._

 

\--------------------------

 

Staring at the results now, Phil feels like an absolute idiot. Of course, how could he have predicted that the search would kick back his own DNA as a partial match to Skye's? A 50% match for that matter. Half Skye's DNA is his- that makes him her father. And the other half... Well, he'd had Simmons double check the other two results the system had presented.

 

One belongs to a long-time friend of Phil's and fellow agent, Rowen Le Fay (and long time crush but he'd be hard pressed to actually admit that one to anyone who isn't Jasper; it's both embarrassing and makes Phil feel like a dirty old man given she's nearly 20 years younger than him). The other belongs to none other than Loki, the God of Mischief, the psychopath who'd stabbed Phil in the chest with a scepter.

 

Suffice to say, neither of them had believed the results. But a visual confirmation confirmed that half of Skye's DNA matched none other than half of Rowen's. Notably, and perhaps most damningly, part of the match had been to the bit of Skye's DNA that isn't recognizable as human. That part, maybe a quarter of Skye's DNA and half of Rowen's, directly matched half of Loki's. It's clear as day on the screen in front of them: Skye's parents are both SHIELD, and one of them isn't completely human. It blew Phil's mind, most notably because it meant that Rowen isn't, couldn't be, nearly twenty years younger than him. Not if she has a 24 year old daughter.

 

Phil has to admit, shock was probably what kept him from blowing up or breaking down in the lab. It's what had gotten him through the plane and into his office without making a fool of himself- what had safely allowed him to lock himself away, out of sight of anyone else. Except now, as he's staring at the reports in front of him, he can't help the anger creeping into his mind.

 

Rowen, perhaps one of the few close friends he has in SHIELD, lied to him. Lied about her age, her past, her heritage. Everything.

 

_Maybe she doesn't know._ A part of his mind that doesn't want to accept her words a lies, that doesn't want to face everything it knows about her as a falsity, nearly shouts the denying statement.  _Maybe she hit her head and forgot. Or maybe she doesn't know Loki is her father. Half her DNA is human, maybe he put some kind of weird spell on her to make her forget everything. Gave her false memories. The man hates humans, why would he ever put up with having a half-human daughter? Maybe he tried to kill her and that's why she lied- to stay hidden._

 

The last thought actually has some merit. With his marked dislike of humans, it's entirely possible Rowen is on the run from her father. Being a half human, half alien-god child (would that make her a demi-god?) would be a good reason to stay hidden. Or maybe she just doesn't want to be judged. It didn't explain her lies about her age though. Phil  _knows_ he never slept with anyone younger than 20 after he turned 18, which means Rowen has to be older than the 30 years she claims to be.

 

_Stop torturing yourself and make the call already!_ The rational part of his brain is right: he needs to stop delaying. It won't change the truth, no matter what that is. So, it's with heavy trepidation that he picks up his cellphone and hits Speed #2 on his private cell. One has been reserved for his best friend, one Marcus Johnson (now, Nick Fury Jr.), since he got the damn thing when they were in the Army. But Rowen has been resting at #2 for years- ever since she opened her apartment to him when he was drunkenly trying to bury a very bad op. Anyone willing to let a guy on a weekend bender crash on their couch for close to three days deserved at minimum to be on speed dial.

 

Pressing the phone to his ear, he silently listened to the echoing ring and prayed Rowen would pick up. They never use their private phones on SHIELD property, or at least during work hours; emergencies are the exception. But Rowen tends to dump her personal phone in a drawer until she's off work for the day; and with her that could mean six or midnight depending on what she has sitting on her desk. The ringing clicked off partway through his thoughts, drawing his attention to the phone and the woman speaking into it.

 

“Hello Phil.” Rowen's accent floated through her voice with ease, twisting the syllables into the soft lit he craves on his worst days. Before Phil can respond though, Rowen laughs and there's the sound another person wolf-whistling. “Jas, you are an incorrigible arse! Quit it! Do not make me get the duct tape!”

 

Great, Jasper's there. Phil was really, really hoping to have this conversation in private. A glance towards his office door confirms he'd locked it earlier- a move he never made unless he didn't want to be disturbed for anything short of a complete emergency. And then May would just break it down.

 

“Phil? Phillip?” The sound of Rowen calling his name again draws Phil's attention to the call at hand. Over the speaker, he can still hear Jasper making noise in the background. He needs to get her to go somewhere private.

 

“I'm here, Rowen,” assures Phil gently, rubbing his eyes a bit. “Where are you?”

 

“At home.” He could hear her shuffling something around before some of the noise falls away. “Why?”

 

“Is Jasper there?” asks Phil, carefully keeping his anxiety in check. He knows the answer in theory, but he wants to be absolutely sure the other agent is actually there before asking her to change rooms. It sounds kind of paranoid otherwise.

 

“Yes, and with a bottle of bourbon in hand,” assures Rowen. The exasperation in her voice is softened by the fondness he can hear. She and Jasper have history; no one is ever surprised by how much they put up with from each other. Mentally, Phil allows himself a bit of relief that it's Jasper there; he's the only male Phil doesn't feel his skin prickle over- mostly because, being gay and having actually tried to sleep with Rowen once, Jasper won't try anything. Their one attempt had been a colossal failure that they are still laughing over. “Something about celebrating? I couldn't get him to actually explain what it was all about, but I think Hill's name was thrown into the spewed jumble.”

 

“Maybe she finally gave into his pestering,” suggests Phil with his own smile. Yes, he's delaying and he knows it, but it's hard not to. He's more afraid of these answers than he was the ones concerning his resurrection.

 

The snort from Rowen suggests that, no, that isn't what she thought happened. “Likely, the woman either broke up with her current boyfriend or finally jumped Fury. Those two are insufferable.”

 

“They say the same about us,” argues Phil carefully. He's on dangerous ground with that comment- his attraction to Rowen is an unspoken matter that only came up once when they were very drunk. Which resulted in them drunkenly sleeping together. It wasn't exactly a friendship building exercise.

 

“People say a lot of things,” points out Rowen calmly. Her voice is unreadable though, as it always is when any discussion of them and sexual relations is mentioned. “Now, what's going on?”

 

Sighing as the realization that she isn't going to offer him a further delay tactic dawns, Phil forceed the next words out of his mouth. “Rowen, I need to discuss something important with you. Could you go into another room?”

 

“Phil?” questions Rowen, her voice worried. “What's wrong?”

 

“Rowen, please,” begs Phil softly, his anxiety already rising. “This is important.”

 

“And Jasper can't know?” asks Rowen, her voice dropping to something more akin to a whisper or a low murmur.

 

“I don't think this is a conversation he should hear,” confirms Phil. “Please, if this weren't important, I wouldn't be asking this of you.”

 

“Alright,” assures Rowen with a sigh. “Give me a moment.” He can hear her moving around momentarily, probably motioning something to Jasper. Then there's the click of a door being shut and her voice returns to the speaker, soft in his ear. “What's wrong, Phil? You sound distressed.”

 

“A little,” confirms Phil, trying to relax as he stares at the files in front of him again. It's impossible for him to settle though, knowing one of his closest friends is somehow related to a psychopathic god. Shifting forward, he leans one arm on his desk. “Rowen, have you ever lied to me?”

 

Rowen makes a slightly distressed sound, like the question startled her. “Phil, we work for an espionage agency. I'm not sure that's a safe question to ask.”

 

“Rowen...” Exasperation colors his tone, but he can feel himself smiling a bit despite the circumstances. This part he knows; the part where they harass and tease each other, make each other laugh and relax so whatever is coming doesn't seem so bad. This time though, it won't work.

 

Sighing heavily, Rowen's tone drops to a familiar serious one he always associates with missions and work. “I'm sure I have, Phil. I'm level 9 specialist, I work on projects you've asked about but that I can't talk about. I must have been required to lie at some point in time.”

 

Phil echos her sigh, eyes dropping to the files in front of him. “I meant about anything personal. Like your age.”

 

“I thought it was against convention to ask for a woman's age,” counters Rowen, the tease back in her voice. It's weaker though, weary. Unsettled. Which puts Phil further ill at ease.

 

Round about questions aren't working though and over the phone he can't read her well enough to know what's going through her head. Maybe he should have waited until they could talk in person, but he knows he'd chicken out if he tried. There's something about Rowen when he's around her, and even went he's not, that makes him want to just take what she says for her word. Now, he wonders if that was a mistake, another of many he'd apparently made.

 

Sighing, he opts to switch tactics. Everyone likes to say the direct approach is best; Rowen had even admitted she did better when people were direct with her. Round about questions are just going to draw this out unnecessarily. “I ran Skye's DNA through the SHIELD system.”

 

Rowen makes a noise in her throat, one of understanding. “You weren't expecting the results.”

 

“They're a little hard to expect,” confirms Phil, his voice growing tense as the combination of unease and a hint of anger flashes through his system. He told her some of his darkest secrets and worst nightmares, how could she not tell him that she has a child? Holding onto that feeling makes it easier to say the next words. “Especially when the computer says I'm her father and one of my best friends is her mother.”

 

Silence echoes through the line. Complete silence, as if the line has been disconnected. Phil actually checks the phone to make sure that hasn't happened.

 

Several minutes pass before she finally speaks again. Phil can hear a slight tremor in her tone, like she's facing a ghost. “Who.”

 

Phil closes his eyes silently. Her tone is almost heartbreaking, but there's something else there too. It's disbelief and maybe just a bit of fear. Those are the tones he latches on to and uses to ground himself. They're indicators of guilt. “You. According to her DNA, you are her mother, Rowen.” He pauses for a moment, needing that time to gather his voice for the next part. “And Loki is her grandfather.”

 

He can clearly hear her bed creaking through the phone, presumably because she just fell onto it. Her voice becomes stiff and just a hint desperate; shock and surprise volleying for a place in her words. “How is this possible...”

 

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” replies Phil, his own voice becoming tinged with anger. It's the shock that's pissing him off. You can't have a child and forget you ever gave birth. Not without a head injury and he's pretty sure that isn't the case. They would have found something in her tests and she remembers her childhood too well. Though, maybe Loki did something to her. Could he have erased any memory of their child from his daughter's mind? Is Loki psychotic enough to do that?

 

“I don't understand.” Rowen's voice is tense, something akin to tears in her words. “It isn't possible. She's....Phil, this must be a mistake.”

 

“There's no mistake, Rowen,” assures Phil, his shoulders tensing. It's beyond obvious that she's keeping something from him and that knowledge only makes him angrier. “She's our daughter. Which makes no sense because you're not more than thirty according to you.”

 

“Phil...” Her wince is audible. “Please, it isn't what you think-”

 

“Really, Rowen? That line?” challenges Phil. His anger is nearing a boiling point, and rising steadily. She lied to him, has been for years. Everything he knows about her is a lie. “Are you seriously going to tell me that you haven't lied about your entire life? Your family? Your age? The fact that you're half god?” He spits the last bit, the words clouded with the anger he feels whenever he thinks about what Loki did to him; the hell that madman put him through.

 

“Full.” Her whispered response, quiet and pained, is just barely audible. “I'm not half human, Phil. I'm not even slightly human.”

 

Red floods Phil's vision as the news sinks in. That she didn't even bothering to deny it now that she's been caught at least shows she doesn't think he's stupid. But after fooling him for years, it isn't a balm anymore, just a painful reminder. “You're his kid, Rowen. You're Loki's fucking kid. Tell me, did you help him get on the helicarrier? Tell him were the tesseract was? Did you tell him to stab me while you were at it?”

 

“What?” There's pain in her voice, possibly even tears, but he can't bring himself to care. She lied to him for _years_ , and for what purpose? He just can't believe she isn't somehow involved in the New York attacks or any of the chaos Loki brought with him. She's been lying to everyone; what reason could she possibly have if this isn't some massive plot to destroy SHIELD? “Phil, what are you talking about? I had nothing to do with my father's insanity! I had barely spoken to him in the seven years I was involved with SHIELD! If I'd known my father had fallen so far, I would have tried to help him!”

 

“But you didn't stop him!” The anger in his voice turned his tone dark in a way it hasn't been since he was a teen. He hasn't been this angry since puberty. “You _knew_ what he could do and you _didn't help us stop him!_ ”

 

“Fury didn't _tell_ me it was Loki. I didn't know until he was brought on board the helicarrier.” Her voice fades into something cold as she speaks, toneless. Helpless. He can hear the turbulence beneath though, the faintest tremor that hints at something deeper. “I didn't know until he was on board.”

 

“And after that?” challenges Phil. “When he was escaping? When he stabbed me? When he was attacking New York? Why didn't you step in then!”

 

“Because I was in shock!” Phil's never heard her snap like that before. Never heard the pain and tears in her voice the way he does now. Any trace of the cold tone from a moment ago is gone- replaced with deep pain, frustration, and something else he can't place.

 

For a moment, his anger fizzles out. The part of him that was mad melts away in the face of her pain. He could hear her voice hitch as she tries to bring her breathing under control; tries to stop the tears he's nearly positive are falling. It causes something inside him to ache with the instinctive need to draw her close just for a moment.

 

Her voice is calm again when it comes through the line, though the occasional hitch is still present and a deep, underlining pain laces her words. “I was in shock, Phil. First, my father tells me that half of my heritage was a lie, that I'm not an Aesir but a Jotunn. That my life would have been better if I'd known because I wouldn't have had to go through hell to prove myself worthy as a Tuatha de Danaan. That I could have had my father around  _all the time_ if we'd known. If my adoptive grandfather weren't a lying bastard, I could have had a normal family instead of the chaos I got instead. And then, after having part of my identity ripped away, suddenly  _you're_ dead too and all I could think about was everything falling apart. All I  _wanted_ was to bring you  _back_ . You want to know why I didn't help? Because I was curled in a shaken ball on the floor of the prison level where _you_ were stabbed, trying to stop myself from falling into a rage that would destroy everyone who got in my way. One that would make me commit actions I would later regret.” She pauses then, her breath shuttering as she draws it in. “ _That_ is why I didn't help stop my father.  _That_ is why the Avengers had to do it for me. Because _I was mourning the loss of my best friend and trying to come to terms with the fact that I'd been unknowingly lied to my entire life by a grandfather I had never met!_ ” Her voice breaks at that point and for a moment all that follows is her breathing.

 

Her words echo through Phil, pushing away the fiery anger that had flooded his system minutes before. Hearing her break because of him hurts in ways he didn't know were possible.

 

Her voice is little more than a whisper when she speaks again, pained but dry. Tearless. “The only thing that saved me was when Fury said he could bring you back.”

 

And like that, all the rage from before returns like a flood of red. The painful memories of being brought back to life, what they put him through. Knowing Rowen, who was with him during his recovery after Tahiti, was involved just made the pain all the worse. She'd played along with it too, another lie she'd told him. Their entire relationship, professional and personal, is little more than a lie. That hurts more than even the knowledge that she'd kept their child from him.

 

The sound of paper crinkling draws Phil's attention downward. An image of Loki stares back at him where he's gripping the paper. Dropping it, it lands beside the picture of Rowen from the other file. Staring at the two, Phil can see the resemblance; see how she could be this crazy man's daughter. Loki is a liar and so is his daughter; what's to say she doesn't have the rest of her father's bad traits as well?

 

“Phil, please, answer me.” Tension weaves itself through her voice, but she's no longer tearful. All signs she was ever upset have faded into nothing, leaving her sounding almost dead. It's a tone that's driven him to pull her into an embrace before simply to comfort her. Now, it just makes him ill. How many times did he fall for that trick? How many times did she fake what she was feeling to lull him into a sense of comfort?

 

“You lied Rowen, it's as simple as that,” states Phil, his own voice cold with an anger that burns deeper than he thought possible. “You lied about who you were, tricked me into believing you were someone you weren't, and abandoned our daughter when she was born. I don't know why you did it, and I don't care. Those are the facts and the fact is that I'm going to make my first call after this to Fury, to tell him everything. He can deal with you.”  
  


He wants to slam the phone down, wants to hear the satisfying click in the hopes that it will make the words he's just spoken taste less like acid on his tongue. It's completely true; he has to tell Nick everything that she just admitted. He's not about to tell Nick about Skye, but everything else is fair game.

 

“Is she alright?” Rowen's whispered question catches him off guard for a moment before he makes the connection: she wants to know how Skye is. But the way she says it, like she's completely dead inside, just makes Phil angrier. She abandoned their child, then has the gall to ask if she's alright but doesn't even bother to try to sound concerned?

 

“She's fine,” replies Phil, his voice cold. “Better than she would have been if I didn't find her.”

 

“Phil,” there's that whisper again, the one that sounds like she's in so much pain that it almost makes him want to gather her up in his arms and protect her. But he won't because all she's done is lie and who's to say this isn't all just another lie to get to the child she abandoned? “Is she safe? Does she look like us?”

 

His anger flares up in response, nearly drowning out her voice and everything else about her that's making Phil want to do anything but be angry with her. “That's none of your concern, Rowen. You're never going to meet her. I wouldn't put her in the position of facing the person who not only abandoned her but couldn't even bother to tell her father that he had a child. I wouldn't put her in the company of someone who's done nothing but lie to everyone about who she is. And I don't want her to know her mother is a traitor.”

 

A growl echos through the line, more animal than human, low and fierce. “I am no traitor and I will not allow a man with so few balls that he had to deliver this news by telephone to imply as much.” Anger infused her words, but it only fuels his own as she actually tries to  _deny_ the fact that she betrayed him. “Furthermore, I didn't abandon her, Phil. If you tell her such a lie, you will be no better than I.”

 

“Really?” challenges Phil, his voice rising. “You don't call leaving your child in the middle of China where a corrupt government and an international police agency could fight over her abandonment? You don't call letting her witness massive amounts of death as an infant and not doing a damn thing about it abandoning her?”

 

“She would have witnessed death if she'd remained with me!” argues Rowen. “It's part of my culture! My mother is a _death goddess_! But that isn't even the point! I didn't know she was alive!”

 

“So you tried to kill her too?” snarls Phil, his free hand wrapping around the image of Rowen and crushing it into a ball. “Great, wonderful. You'll be lucky if Fury let's you live after all of this! I'll be lucky if he lets me shoot you, myself!”

 

“I didn't try to kill her!” snaps Rowen. “I didn't know she was alive becau-”

 

Phil doesn't let her finish, his anger too far gone at this point to allow any kind of rational thought to permeate his mind. His words cut her off thoroughly. “You will  _never_ see her, Rowen. I won't even allow her to know you  _exist_ . Goodbye.” He forces himself to slam down the phone, more violence in the motion than necessary. It isn't because of the anger he feels towards Rowen entirely; a good part of it is the fact that if he doesn't slam down the phone, he knows he won't hang up the line. Part of him (a much bigger part than he wants to admit) wants to hear her excuses; wants to find some reason to believe and forgive her. It's the rest of him that won't. She lied to him and that's that. End of story. Whatever comes next, it's exactly what she deserves.

 

\-----------------------------

 

It takes Phil nearly thirty minutes before he's calm enough to pick up the phone and make a second call. This one, as promised, is to Nick Fury. He ignored the way his hands were shaking as he dialed the number, bringing one hand up to rub at his eyes in an attempt to stop the tremors. Touching his lips, his body jolted as he realized there's blood on his finger tips. Apparently, he'd managed to bite a hole in his lip to boot. Before he had a chance to further consider his bloody lip and fingers or the tremors in his hands, a voice cut over the line, deep, tired, and annoyed.

 

“This had better be important, Cheese.” Nick's words were little more than a growl spit from his throat. Phil hadn't bothered to check the clock when he'd made the call. This is too important to wait.

 

“It is, Nick,” states Phil with a heavy sigh. Part of him is still balking at this decision, fighting against the idea of revealing Rowen's secret. But the rest of him knew that Nick needed to know someone related to Loki is working for SHIELD. He needs to know she might betray them all. “I have reason to believe that Ro- Agent Le Fay might not be completely loyal.”

 

For a moment, silence echoes over the line. Complete silence, not the rage Phil was expecting. It's broken a moment later, Nick's voice colored with caution. “What are you talking about, Phil?”

 

The switch from his nickname to his actual name means the man is taking this very seriously. Good. “I have evidence that proves she's genetically related to Loki.”

 

More silence echos over the line for a moment before Nick lets out a groan and what sounds like a muttered curse. “Is that all, Cheese?”

 

Phil can feel his eye twitch. What does that even mean? “What do you mean 'is that all'? She's related to Loki, the psychopath who tried to take over the world.”

 

“I already knew that.”

 

Those four words, that simple sentence, nearly makes Phil drop the phone. No. There is no way Nick would knowingly let someone related to Loki continue working at SHIELD. It isn't possible. “You- you knew? And you let her keep working at SHIELD?!”

 

“She saved your life, Phil,” snaps Nick, his voice quickly growing impatient. “She punched her dad in the stomach and told him to get the hell out of her life because he tried to kill you. She helped us save your life when you died. Those aren't exactly the actions of someone who's gonna betray everyone.”

 

Anger floods his body, his fist tightening in response to his friend's words. Nick knew? And he didn't bother to tell Phil? Worse, she was involved in bringing him back to life? Involved in subjecting him to that hell? “What if she's just trying to trick us into trusting her?”

 

“Then she's doing a damn good job of pretending,” states Nick with a sigh. “Look Cheese, you didn't see her after Loki stabbed you. Hell, Sitwell was with her when she basically broke down in the damn prison chamber. I talked to him about her after, extensively. He wasn't sure she wasn't about to go shove a spear through Loki's chest herself. She punched Loki in the stomach because he stabbed you. I don't know what you need to hear here, Cheese, but I'm not dropping Le Fay unless I see actual evidence that she's a traitor and everything I've seen and heard up until now says the opposite.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Phil could feel the phone digging into his hand as he tried to find a way to convincingly voice his objections. “I think that's a mistake, sir.”

 

“And I think you're too close to think about this objectively,” counters Nick simply. “You're hurt, you're angry, and you're trying to lash out. I get that, but trying to get her fired isn't the way to do it.”

 

“I'm not trying to get her fired!” snaps Phil, anger at the accusation clouding his mind. “I'm possibly the only one thinking clearly! She needs to be under surveillance.”

 

“And I have her under surveillance,” assures Nick smoothly, irritation edging into his tone. “But I'm not going to kick her out of SHIELD just because her dad tried to take over the world. She isn't the only one to work here who's come from a sketchy family or background and she's not the only one here to have a villainous family member. So, again, until I see proof that she's a traitor, I'm not letting her go.”

 

Nick falls silent then, and Phil takes that moment to absorb his words. Okay, yes, he's right. Rowen isn't the only SHIELD agent to come from some kind of a sketchy background. Natasha and Clint both have sketchy backgrounds and family. Hell, Sitwell brought a couple of bank robbers on board. But none of them are the child of a mad god and all of them are completely human. This isn't just a tactical fear- it's a logistical one. He's not honestly sure they can stop Rowen if she turns, and having a power house like that in the middle of SHIELD just sounds like a mistake.

 

“She's not human, Nick,” objects Phil, though his anger is starting to flag in the face of Nick's reason. Not anger at Rowen, no. He couldn't image ever forgiving her for not telling him about this. He'd loved the woman and she'd failed to even tell him they had a child. A child she'd tried to abandon at minimum, kill at worst. “I'd say you're right but she's not human.”

 

“Neither is Thor,” reasons Nick. “And Thor is Loki's brother.”

 

“His _adopted_ brother,” reminds Phil. “They don't share blood, Rowen and Loki do. She's his daughter, who knows what thoughts he filled her head with!”

 

“I don't think he raised her,” remarked Nick calmly. “Thor didn't show any sign of recognizing her when they met. He treated her like he did every other human woman he met.”

 

“That just means she's hiding from him too!” argued Phil, his anger rising again. He doesn't question why worry isn't among the feelings swirling through him. Doesn't want to consider why worry for the Avengers and his friends isn't part of the cocktail of emotion rushing through him that's largely composed of anger and betrayal.

 

Nick's voice is pure frustration. “He doesn't know she exists. She told me as much and asked that I not reveal that information. Apparently, there's some kind of conflict between her mom's people and the Aesir.”

 

“So our allies don't even like the people she was raised with?” challenges Phil, his stomach sinking at the thought. What kind of people could Rowen have been raised around if they're the enemies of the Aesir?

 

“I don't know, Phil,” states Nick calmly. “She said something about a treaty and tensions but whatever the hell it is that her parent's people are fighting about, she didn't want to talk about it. All I got out of her were that there are no active conflicts in play and they're not at risk of going to war any time soon. She also made it clear that anything happening at home wasn't anything we needed to worry about.”

 

“She can't know that,” argues Phil, his frustration rising again. More secrets? How much of her life has she kept from them?

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” replies Nick. “I wasn't going to interrogate her to find out and I'm not worried about her being a security threat. If she wanted to take us out, she's had plenty of opportunities. Hell, how many times has she had your life in her hands?”

 

More than Phil really wants to think about at the moment. They've had more than a few close calls in the field that resulted in one of them saving the other. Usually from a violent death. Sighing, Phil forces his anger out of his voice. He isn't going to get through to Nick, that much is obvious, and it's frustrating but at least he knows Nick knows. And they always have the Avengers, to boot. He doesn't like it, but Nick will pull rank if Phil keeps arguing too.

 

“Fine,” grumbles Phil. “But keep her under surveillance! I don't trust her.”

 

There's silence on the line for a long moment and when Nick speaks again, there's clear pain in his voice. “I never thought I'd hear you say those words, Phil. And I damn well hope that's just the anger talking, because you two have trusted each other unfailingly for so long that I'm not sure you know how to function without that trust.”

 

“What are you talking about Nick?” growls Phil, one hand rising to rub his forehead. His ability to function or survive has nothing to do with if he trusts or distrusts Rowen. She's just another coworker. “If I trust or don't trust her doesn't impact anything except how I treat her.”

 

Nick grunts slightly and Phil can hear him standing from what sounds like his desk chair. “She's your release valve, Phil. How many times have you called her since your team was established to vent about someone or just get an outside perspective? You call Sitwell and me a lot two, but you call her more. You call her when you think you see something but want confirmation that you're drawing the right conclusions. You talk to her when you're uncertain about something but don't want to come to me. You lean on her with problems that you don't want Sitwell and I to know exist because you trust her to keep your confidence. Hell, I'm pretty sure you call her if you just feel like crap and need a smile.”

 

“Actually, I call Sitwell and ask him for a bad joke if I'm down,” corrects Phil, considering Nick's words. He talks to May more than he talks to Rowen, and he certainly never talks to either of them about anything Nick is suggesting. Right? “I don't call her unless I need her assistance.”

 

“Phil, you called her after you staged that extraction of your team from the Ukraine just a few months ago,” points out Nick.

 

“I called her to see what the fallout was,” counters Phil. He had called to see if she'd talked to Jasper about what he'd done and how bad the repercussions might be towards his team.

 

“She was stationed in New York, Phil,” reminds Nick. “Not the Hub. She wouldn't _know_ about any repercussions. You called her to talk about what had happened and decompress to someone you knew wouldn't be mad, would probably agree with what you did, and couldn't punish you for going against orders.”

 

Okay, maybe all of that is true. But in his defense, there aren't a lot of people he knew at that moment who could have actually had the time to talk with him (which Rowen nearly always did because she isn't usually field deployed), hadn't been directly involved (because Jasper was working under Hand on that one), and wouldn't be required to punish him (Nick is still the boss and he give Phil as much freedom as he can, but there are some things he can't ignore). Plus, his own team had been too close to the matter, so May was out.

 

“Alright, that one time I called,” admits Phil. “But I don't talk to her as much as you think and I don't trust or lean on her as much as you want to believe.”

 

“Whatever you say, Cheese,” sighs Nick, clearly done with the conversation. “Now, I'm going back to my fucking bed to get some fucking sleep before the next major catastrophe hits that requires my attention. Go calm your ass down and stop worrying about Le Fay. Let me handle her.”

 

Sighing, Phil rubs his eyes in both frustration and partial exhaustion. He knows he isn't going to stop worrying about this; it isn't possible. She could betray them any moment; hell, she's working with the Avengers. Who knows what she could do to them with that kind of inside access? “Not going to happen, Marcus.”

 

“Fine motherfucker,” growls Nick in that tone that says he's exasperated with Phil but he's accepted the man's stubbornness all the same. “Just think about one thing Cheese: if you were pissed with Sitwell right now for the exact same offense, would you be on the phone with me or Le Fay?”

 

“If it was Sitwell, I'd be calling Rowen to warn her because they spend so much time together,” counters Phil. What kind of question is that? If his friends are in danger, he's going to warn them first.

 

Nick hums a bit. “Then why aren't you on the phone with Sitwell?”

 

He doesn't have an answer for that, if he's being honest. Sitwell is as much his friend as Nick is or Rowen had been. So why hadn't his first instinct been to call the other agent? Before Phil can scramble together an excuse though, the line clicks, indicating that Nick disconnected the call.

 

Hanging up his own line, Phil leans back in the chair in his office and tries to think. There are too many emotions swirling through his head though for him to sort out what he's even thinking. Sure, there's anger in there- a lot of anger for that matter- and there's betrayal, hurt, and a fierce need to punch something. But it's what he can't find that's confusing him. There isn't any fear or bitterness; no overwhelming need to protect everyone around him from her. In fact, the only protective instinct he's feeling is directed towards Skye, which may well just be the mother hen in him being driven to guard her against harm. God, he needs a drink. Or something to punch.

 

Deciding on a drink (because destroying something on the Bus is entirely unnecessary and costly and will probably have May on his ass in under five seconds), Phil stands from behind his desk and heads for the door. Everyone should be asleep by now, except May who's probably in the cockpit. Or possibly fucking Ward in her bunk, but Phil didn't want to go there. There are some things he doesn't need to think about his friend doing, and that's one of them. It's like thinking about Sitwell and Hill screwing each other: a mental image Phil doesn't need.

 

Shuttering at the thought, Phil heads directly towards the lounge. Now, he definitely needs that drink.

 

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the inequality of the chapter lengths between this chapter and the next two. I tried to split them up as well as I could.

Stepping into the make-shift gym on the bus, Phil's relieved to find it empty. Not that anyone other than Ward is likely to be there, but he still doesn't want to face anyone like this. A glass of scotch hadn't done much to ease Phil's overactive mind the night before, which had left him tossing and turning the entire night as he chased sleep to no avail.

 

Finally giving up when his clock stated the time to be 4:30 am, he'd opted to go with his second instinct from the night before: punching something. That something being the bag that hung in the gym. Logically, it should be strong enough to take anything Phil throws at it, but he has to admit that he isn't sure that's true. It's been a long time since he'd been this mad. Puberty long. His youthful anger had dissipated when he was 17. Well, he'd thought it had dissipated. Now he wondered if it was always there and he'd just convinced himself it wasn't.

 

Though, really, if his anger is going to come back about something, this is the thing. He has a kid, one he's never known about because her mom hadn't decided to tell him. He has a kid who's mother abandoned her, likely to death. It's like something out of Greek Mythology: something the Spartans would have done. Or is it Greek reality? He'll have to ask someone. After all, if the Norse gods are real, who's to say the Greek ones aren't, too?

 

Wrapping the boxing tape carefully around his knuckles, he shrugged off his sweatshirt and turned toward the punching bag that's about to take the bunt of his anger. It hung helplessly suspended from the ceiling, unwittingly awaiting it's doom. Just seeing the bag made his anger settle some; it's something he can punch without worrying about actually causing it pain. Perfect.

 

The first punch sent it swinging harder than Phil anticipated and he has to catch the bag to regain some control. That's what he needed right now: control. He needed to control himself, otherwise this whole exercise would be in vain. Without control, his anger won't subside.

 

Taking a deep breath, he began again, letting his mind shift to work with the rhythm of his punches. Punch, punch, jab, jab, over and over again. The repetition settled him, helped to siphon off some of his nervous energy and focus his mind. With each punch, he sunk further into his thoughts as his body took up the motions automatically.

 

_God, this is a mess._ _How did any of this happen? I can't even remember sleeping with her._ Really, he didn't. He'd never slept with anyone who even looked like Rowen. At least, not that he remembered. Even if she wasn't significantly older than she said, he still hadn't slept with anyone underage since he was 18. At least, he didn't think he did. And considering Skye's age, it wasn't when he was in high school, which was the most likely time that he would have knocked someone up. He hadn't exactly been picky in high school and he'd gotten a lot of offers. 

 

_Really, I shouldn't be surprised that I have a kid and I should probably consider it lucky that it's Rowen who gotten pregnant and not any of the people I slept with when I was younger._

 

Most of them had been high frequently or were too vain to properly raise a child. Rowen was a godsend by comparison, otherwise who knew how fucked up any kid of his would have been? She was the best option, even though her father is a mad god who tried to kill him. Which, in light of the knowledge that he'd impregnated said god's daughter, made a little more sense. He couldn't say he wouldn't do the same thing. At this point though, what happened, happened.  _I need to decide what I'm going to do._

 

And what that really came down to, at least for the moment, was what he would tell Skye. And he will tell her, because even he can't justify keeping this information from her. She would hate him if she ever found out but even beyond that: keeping this information from her isn't right and won't help anyone. It would really only hurt them. _Besides, she's spent her whole life looking for this information; she deserves to at least know I'm her father. But how do you tell someone something like that? How do you walk up to someone and admit that you're her father?_

 

It's the toughest question he's ever faced. Delivering hard information isn't something he's unfamiliar with, but it's never been this personal before. Maybe there should be alcohol involved. Would that help? Could he even drink with her? She's his daughter, so could he really condone her drinking? Well, okay, he didn't actually have the ability to control if she drank or not. She would probably hit him if he tried to restrict her like that.

 

_God, I wish I was still speaking with Rowen. She'd know what to do. Jasper probably won't pick up, either. He's probably so pissed with me he can't even think straight, assuming Rowen even told him what happened. What am I thinking, of course she told him. She's closer to Jasper than I am. And Nick is definitely out of the question; as much as I trust him, I don't trust him to advise me on how to break this news to my daughter._

 

A flash of red and the bag nearly striking Phil in the face drew him from his thoughts; it was only his fast reactions that kept him from a bruised face. The chains above creaked ominously as he settled the bag back into place. It wasn't that he was really worried the bag would break, but everyone used this bag and placing unnecessary stress on the chains guaranteed that it would ware out faster. He might look like an office drone, but he's significantly stronger than his form suggested; plenty of people could testify to that who learned the hard way not to mess with him. It was entirely possible for him to place unnecessary stress on the bag and chains.

 

Once the bag settled again, he began to slowly return to his former routine. The bag swung a little with each hit, but otherwise didn't move violently with any of the strikes. Secure in the knowledge the bag wasn't going to go flying, Phil allowed his mind to return to his thoughts.

 

_So what do I do? Take her to a bar and talk to her? Invite her into my office? I don't really want to tell her in the middle of the bus. That just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. When I told her about her 0-8-4 status, I just said it. Could that work with this too? Too bad just walking up and telling her sounds like a cop out. Maybe I should wait a few days. It might help clear my head a bit. What's a few days compared to a life time, right? Not telling her about her mother is going to be the hard part. What do I say when she asks? I don't want to lie and say her mother's dead. Maybe I could just imply I don't know who her mother is..._

 

"Keep your elbow up."

 

May's voice cut through the gym, startling Phil. His footing slipped in surprise, not enough to cause any injury but certainly enough to be visible. He wasn't surprised by May's smirk when she stepped into view beside him. Her hand rose to lift his elbow a little into a better position and yes, Phil knew how to properly throw a punch. He could normally do it in his sleep. He could do it while drunk off his ass. So the fact that he was struggling in this moment just reflected how off kilter this whole thing had him.

 

"Thanks," muttered Phil, straightening up to retake his stance again. As he started throwing punches at the heavy bag again, he mentally took note of his body. His arms were starting to shake a little and his breathing was more ragged than he expected. The hell? How long had he been hitting the heavy bag? Throwing one more punch, he straightened up and moved to grab his water from the bench. If he was shaking, he needed to take a break. The doctors were strict with their instructions on what he could and couldn't do still. "What time is it?"

 

"Seven.” May reached out to stop the swinging bag as she spoke and, easily halting the back and forth motion. "Ward took Skye outside for a run. He said you looked busy."

 

"Did he say how long they would be gone for?" asked Phil, taking a several gulps of water after.

 

"No," replied May, her eyes never leaving him. "Not long though. Skye doesn't really have the endurance built up for long running sessions. He's giving us enough time to talk about what's bothering you."

 

Phil's shoulders tensed at the thought of talking to anyone else about everything that transpired last night. At minimum, he should talk to Skye first. It isn't ultimately anyone else's business but hers and his. Well, anyone else on the plane's business. And he definitely didn’t want to discuss this with May. If Sitwell and Fury knew about Rowen already, May could already know too and he couldn't handle knowing someone else he trusted didn't tell him something this important at this moment. "There's nothing wrong, I just felt restless."

 

Glancing at the pilot, he internally cringed at the look of 'you are lying to me through your teeth and it's pissing me off' that was clearly present on her face. "You don't get restless, Phil."

 

And there was his first name. That was never a good sign. Taking another drink from his bottle, Phil grabbed the towel he'd brought down and wiped off his face to buy him a moment to think. The reality was that May wouldn't back down completely until she knew what was going on, but he might be able to get her to ease off a bit.

 

Lifting his towel to his neck, he carefully met May's eyes while keeping his own blank. "It's a personal matter, May. I'm handling it."

 

"Right," sighed May unhappily, frowning at him. In that moment, Phil saw some of the old May he'd been looking for peek out. Instead of the sonic woman he'd been seeing, the slightly more expressive woman he'd known years ago, before Bahrain and the damage it did, stood there attempting to stare him down. "I don't believe you."

 

Closing his eyes, Phil took a deep breath and tried to keep his already simmering anger in check. If he pissed her off, May would kick his ass. "This isn't your business May, it's mine and I will deal with it myself."

 

May was silent for so long, Phil had to open his eyes again to make sure she hadn't done the ninja thing even he's jealous of and disappeared back into the cockpit. But no, she's standing there, critically eying him with her arms crossed over her chest in a stance that clearly said 'I am not leaving until I get a satisfactory answer to my questions'. Why he didn't throw her into the interrogation room more, he isn't sure.

 

"Does this have to do with the calls you made to Fury and Le Fay?" pressed May calmly, eyes carefully watching his body language.

 

Of course she knew about the calls; she always knew about things like that. She probably monitored the airways. How she knew about the call to Rowen though, he wasn't sure he'd ever know. "Yes."

 

Nodding calmly, she shifted a bit and relaxed her shoulders some, spinning to exit the room. It was her way of saying she'd drop the matter for now.

 

For someone who generally wasn't interested in the personal lives of others, May had always taken an interest in Phil's life. Probably because it was rarely far separated from SHIELD business. Any drama in his life that wasn't work related still usually involved SHIELD somehow, which sort of made sense in a strangely twisted way. His friends are almost all SHIELD agents, so it really wasn't a surprise ultimately. But that meant people like May tend to get involved in his life, which he really didn't like. Well, at the moment he didn't like it.

 

Glancing back at the punching bag, Phil dismissed the idea of returning to his workout. He was already growing tired and he wasn't really supposed to be doing large amounts of strenuous exercise still. Snatching up his personal items, Phil headed towards the stairwell and his office. He had work to do and maybe it would take his mind off the chaos from the previous night.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Hours later, Phil had managed to clear most of the paperwork from his desk and go through most of the reports his team had submitted from their last mission. However, this also meant there were corrections to make. Especially in the case of the report submitted by Fitz on the machine that had caused the weather disruption. Half the report was scribbled out in scientific gibberish Phil couldn't make out, primarily because his scientific studies didn't include theoretical engineering of power supplies for weather machines. Somehow, he'd never actually found a need to study the types of power supplies that could run a weather machine, or whatever it was the machine had been. It's original intentions aside, it had managed to cause a massive storm that nearly destroyed the academy. That made it a weather machine in his book.

 

Shoving a hand through his thinning hair, Phil snatched up the offensively confusing stack of papers that was the report in question and head for the labs. Fitz would just have to rewrite the whole thing, and he'd probably need a pot of coffee to read it. _Maybe coffee will help clear my head. It can't hurt and it might keep me from throwing something at Fitz._ Okay, he would never actually throw something at the scientist, but he was abnormally frustrated at the moment and getting angry at any of his team wouldn't help.

 

A pot of coffee was already hot in the kitchen, probably thanks to Skye from the smell of it. She somehow managed to make coffee that was stronger than the sludge they drank on missions but tasted twice as good. Given it's the same coffee, Phil wasn't really sure how she managed to pull it off.

 

_Skye. How do I explain I never even knew I had a kid without sounding like a careless jackass?It makes it sound like I slept with so many women, I lost track. God, and how do I explain that I don't remember even sleeping with her mom? She's going to ask about her. Can I really lie about knowing anything about Rowen? Maybe it would be better if she thought I slept with so many women I couldn't remember her mother. It might be better ultimately than admitting that I know who her mom is. I don't want her anywhere near Rowen right now, probably never. She gave up any right to be a mother when she abandoned Skye. So how do I keep from telling Skye her mother is alive? And how do I avoid telling her that I know who her mother is?_

 

The sound of a crash from somewhere down below cut through the kitchen, drawing Phil from his thoughts. He could worry about this later, for now he had work to do. Namely, he needed to have a conversation with Fitz about writing comprehensive reports. Maybe he could write a manual. 'Phil Coulson's Guide To Comprehensive Scientific Report Writing'.

 

Coffee in hand, Phil made a direct bee-line for the labs, all the while attempting to force his mind away from the Skye issue. He'd figure it out eventually. A few days to clear his head would help too; the workout this morning hadn't exactly killed his anger. Maybe after a few days, talking about Rowen to Skye wouldn't seem like the horrible idea it did at that exact moment. _Okay, that won't happen. But maybe I'll find some way to work around it._

 

Stepping onto the stairwell that spiraled into the cargo bay, Phil scanned the room as he always did, just to see where everyone was. Fitz and Simmons stood in the lab, as expected, bickering from the looks of it. Something was smoking on the table, which probably meant Fitz had miscalculated something. Or tried to upgrade one of his drones. Ward and Skye, by contrast, were training below on the mats. Both stood squared against one another, holding standard starting stances as they stared each other down. Ward was saying something Phil couldn't hear, keeping his voice down probably to reduce echo.

 

A hint of a smile pulled at Phil's lips as he watched them for a moment. Skye wanted to be a SHIELD agent; she might not realize it, but she was taking after both her parents in choosing that route. Somehow, it made him proud to know he had a daughter like Skye. She worked hard, taking down her own personal demons to get here. It was-

 

Whatever else was about to go through Phil's mind was promptly erased when Ward suddenly dropped Skye to the mats and pinned her. Rationally, Phil knew it was part of her training, but a part of him (part that was still very angry at Rowen and this whole situation) immediately balked at the sight and redirected his fury towards Skye's SO. The sight of his daughter laying beneath Ward, his very male agent, made him want to throw Ward out of the cargo bay door.

 

_Why is this so upsetting? Ward's with May, he's not going to do anything with Skye._ Except Skye was pinned down with her legs splayed slightly apart and Ward's body fitted against hers. Yes, it was a legitimate pin and Phil knew that because he'd used that particular pin before but when a guy pinned a girl like that and it wasn't a real fight, a guy could get distracted. And the only thing Phil could imagine was Ward thinking things about Skye while she's pinned beneath him that he shouldn't be thinking while he's dating May. And it pissed him off.

 

Ward was off Skye seconds after he pinned her, helping the hacker up and talking through what just happened with her to explain why she got pinned. It helped ease Phil's murderous thoughts for a few seconds until Ward reached out to maneuver Skye's body into a proper position to execute the drop he'd just used on her. It was necessary, it was useful, it was a practical way to teach, and it was making Phil see red. He needed to leave before he did something stupid, like chucking Ward out the cargo bay doors.

 

Taking a deep breath, Phil forced his eyes away from the training pair and spun around to return to his office. Fitz would just have to come up and speak with him, because there was no way he would be able to stand there and talk to Fitz, knowing that Ward was in so much physical contact with Skye. Well, no way he could and not hurt the younger man. At least in his office, he could pace and rant out loud without anyone accusing him of loosing his mind.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, Coulson and Ward are forced to face a discussion of female problems. Lots of cringing from the men, but you have been warned.

“Agent Coulson, sir.” Ward's greeting drew Phil's eyes away from the papers in front of him. Fitz had agreed to rewrite his report, but that meant that he still needed to finish the paperwork related to the weather machine incident. It wasn't a huge amount of paperwork on his end for a change, but the agents at the academy were demanding precise and exacting detail so they could (hopefully) prevent something like this from happening again. Which left him double checking all of his reports for said details.

 

“Agent Ward,” greeted Phil in return, glancing up for a moment before returning to the papers in front of him. The memories from earlier were still too fresh, making him bristle at the slightest sight of Ward. For now, it was better for him to just not look at the man.

 

He expected Ward to just walk away like he usually did; the specialist wasn't exactly a big talker. But instead, the other agent dropped into a seat across from Phil and leaned forward like he wanted to talk. It was a disturbing variation to the normal routine for Phil, especially given his recent thoughts towards the other agent. But he couldn't exactly ask Ward to leave a public part of the plane. He'd be the one who'd have to leave and he really didn't want to move yet. Not until he'd finished what he was working on; the coffee pot was so close here... Besides, Ward clearly wanted to talk; his body language screamed as much. So, instead of acting busy in the hopes the younger man would leave, Phil carefully set his glasses aside and focused his attention on the specialist. “Is there something you need, Ward?”

 

“Huh?” Ward jumped a little, apparently surprised by Phil's attention. Shaking his head, Ward shifted to lean back a little more to meet Phil's eyes. “No sir, I'm just waiting on Skye.”

 

An unpleasant feeling shot down Phil's spine. The last thing he wanted was Ward and Skye spending more time together. Shouldn't Ward be bugging May? It wasn't like he could say as much though. So instead of a nasty comment, he put on a fake smile and nodded in understanding. “Battleship?”

 

“She knows my weakness,” joked Ward weakly. Well, he attempted to joke. Really, Ward just failed at the whole inter-personal communication thing.

 

Still, the mention of Skye's love for board games reminded Phil just how little he knew about her. Like her hair, for example. She had that streak in it. Why did she have it in the first place? When did she start dying it? He wanted to know more about Skye as a person, not as one of his agents. He wanted to know who she is and why she's that way. And sadly, right now Ward knew more about her than he did.

 

Glancing at the man across from him, Phil wondered how much Ward knew about who Skye was as a person. It was a little infuriating to think the specialist might know more about Skye than Phil did, but the two spent a lot of time together. Simmons was the only person who spent more time with Skye than Ward. It would be weird to ask either of his agents about Skye though. Simmons would understand of course, but Phil wanted to learn these things from Skye, not another person.

 

His thoughts on the matter were interrupted when Skye came bounding into the room, holding the precious battleship game in her hands with her hair dripping wet. “You are so going down, Robot.”

 

“Not this time, Rookie,” insisted Ward with a smirk, his eyes rising to meet Skye's. There was something in the look that made Phil's skin prickle. He didn't like the way that Ward's eyes had gone so soft. The man's with May; he'd better not even think about going after Skye to boot.

 

“Hey AC, you okay there?” Skye's voice broke Phil out of his thoughts, drawing his focus back to the room. Which was when he realized that he'd been glaring at Ward. Well, that's embarrassing.

 

Clearing his throat, he moved some papers aside so Skye could set up the boards beside where he'd been working and pretended like he hadn't been trying to glare holes in his specialist's head not five seconds ago. “I'm fine, just frustrated. That's all.”

 

“You sure?” countered Skye, hands quickly setting up her battleships. “Fitz said he heard you shouting at someone on the phone last night and you don't usually shout unless you're really pissed.”

 

Fitz overheard him speaking to Rowen; wonderful. He'd thought his office was more or less sound proof. Apparently, that wasn't the case, at least not last night. “It was nothing, Skye. Just a personal call I needed to make.”

 

“Who to?” pressed Skye in her usual, casual way that made you think there was nothing wrong at all with what she'd asked or how she'd asked it. Her board was set up in seconds, her strategy simple, so her full attention was on him. Great. No way to distract her.

 

“No one you've met,” assured Phil, his eyes returning to his papers. “Don't worry about it. I handled the matter.”

 

“Alright,” accepted Skye with a huffing sigh; he could see from the look she was giving him that she neither believed him nor would let the subject actually drop completely. “So, what was so important you had to kill a forest of trees to print it?”

 

“This,” stated Phil, holding up one of the forms in front of him, “is the paperwork from the Academy incident.”

 

“Geez, hasn't SHIELD heard of digitizing?” asked Skye, eying the piles wearily as thought the paper might bite her.

 

“They have,” assured Phil with a chuckle. “But some things we need paper copies of for security purposes. These are the hard files we'll drop off at the next base we land in. They'll be taken to the archives from there.”

 

“So, what does the archive do?” asked Skye curiously, glancing at Ward. The other agent was apparently done with his own board, based on the way he was watching them both. Grinning, Skye held up a finger. “Hold that thought, AC. Ward, you ready?”

 

“Bring it on, rookie,” challenged Ward, smirking at Skye. “You aren't winning this time.”

 

“Oh you are going down,” countered Skye with a grin before snatching up a peg from her side of the board. “B-13.”

 

The way Ward's face paled was comedic; it almost makes him laugh. “What the hell!”

 

“Ward,” teased Skye in a sing-song voice, a grin firmly in place. “I need a confirmation.”

 

“Hit,” groaned Ward, dropping his face into his hands and staring at the board. His eyes darted woefully to Phil. “You were saying about the archives, sir?”

 

“Right,” began Phil again, nodding a bit. “The archives hold all of the paper and digital forms amassed by SHIELD over the years. They're also responsible for digitizing older files and controlling information access.”

 

“So, like any archive,” stated Skye with a nod, eying Ward. “Are you gonna take all day, Robot?”

 

Ward glared at her, but there was no heat in the look. “A7.”

 

“Miss,” stated Sky with a smirk. “B12.”

 

Another groan from Ward. “Hit.”

 

Laughing, Skye looked back at Phil with a wide smile on her face. “How many archives does SHIELD have anyway?”

 

“There's one primary and several secondary,” explained Phil, shaking his head a bit at the rivalry in front of him. Despite his current....mild animosity towards Ward, Phil had to admit that watching the the specialist and hacker interact was entertaining. He was starting to understand why he sometimes catches May watching them from the kitchen, when she thinks no one is around. At first, he'd thought it had to do with her relationship with Ward. But now? He's relatively sure it's just for that small taste of normalcy the two present. A normalcy neither of the two people in front of him ever got.

 

“Huh,” remarked Skye, her attention back on the game. Well, trying to stare holes in Ward's head while waiting for him to make a move. If that's really considered focusing on the game was another matter entirely. “That's interesting. “

 

Phil smiled a bit, watching the two in silent amusement as the game engulfed their attention. As subtly as he could, Phil tried to examine Skye. Despite knowing her for months, he'd never taken the time to really look at her outside the context of her threat level and usefulness. As he takes the time now to do what he probably should have months ago, he began to see the similarities between the woman in front of him, himself, and her mother.

 

Like the way Skye's hair tumbled around her head the same way Rowen's does when she ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. Or the look of intense concentration that crossed the young hacker's face, matching the one that often crossed his own face. And then there's the voice, nearly identical to Rowen's at times. Especially when Skye laughed. The parallels are minor, but powerful all the same. Little things that mark her heritage as much as the big things might.

 

“Hey, AC, you there?” called Skye, waving her hand slightly in front of Phil's face. “Earth to AC. Er, Bus to AC.”

 

“I'm fine Skye,” assured Phil, blinking as he refocused on his surroundings. “I was just thinking.”

 

“Yeah?” asked Skye curiously, tilting her head slightly in a gesture he'd seen Rowen use dozens of times when she was curious or doubtful. “What about?”

 

“Nothing important,” replied Phil, humming a bit with a secretive smile. He knew it drove her crazy when he did that, just as it drove Rowen mad. Sure enough, she began pouting at him in a way that he imaged would exactly match what Rowen would look like if she pouted.

 

“C'mon AC, let us in on the secret!” insisted Skye, giving him the puppy-dog eyes she pulled out when she really wanted to know something.

 

Sighing, Phil considered just keeping his mouth shut. But this could be his chance to ask a few questions too; there weren't too many other times he might get to ask, after all. “I'm wondering when you redyed your hair. The blond strip hasn't faded since you came on-board.”

 

Both of Ward's eyebrows rose at Phil's question and even Skye looked surprised that he would notice something like her hair. The surprise only lasted a moment though, then she was looking down at the board and fiddling with what he assumes was a peg. “I don't dye it.”

 

Phil blinked at Skye. Then blinked again. Well, that wasn't expected. And was somewhat inexplicable. “You don't dye it?”

 

“Nope,” confirmed Skye, leaning back in her chair. Her eyes were still turned down and she looked almost embarrassed about her blond streak. “I've had it since forever.”

 

“And you've never dyed it?” repeated Ward skeptically, though he was looking at Skye again in that way that made Phil bristle.

 

“Never,” repeated Skye, shaking her head and finally looking up. She almost looked like she expected them to judge her for having multicolored hair.

 

“Huh,” stated Ward, settling back into his chair. “That's kind of cool, actually.”

 

“Yeah?” asked Skye, perking up a bit. Her excited expression calmed his otherwise ruffled irritation.

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Ward with a smirk. “It's cool.”

 

“Awe, thanks Robot,” thanked Skye, though she still looked uncomfortable. Not that Phil blamed her- he would be too.

 

Having an answer drew more questions to Phil's mind. He wanted to learn the things a parent was supposed to know about their child. Things like their favorite color or foods or activities. He wanted to know her history, the good and bad. Wanted her to feel safe coming to him with anything which, well, he hoped was already the case.

 

He started to open his mouth, intent on asking more questions, but was cut off swiftly by Simmon's entry into the lounge. The young biochemist was twitching nervously and holding a piece of paper rather tightly, warranting immediate concern and attention. Twitchy Simmons was nervous Simmons, and nervous Simmons wasn't a good sign.

 

“Excuse me, Skye?” called Simmons, drawing the young hackers attention.

 

Skye looked back at the scientist, turning her head partially up side-down to offer her friend a grin. “Hey, what's up, Simmons?”

 

Blushing, Simmons shuffled a little as she spokes, just avoiding mutilating the poor piece of paper held in her grasp. “Um, well, I forgot to get some information from you during your exam the other day. It's just one question, but I need an answer for the records.”

 

One of Phil's eyebrows rose curiously. He'd seen the questionnaire and it had looked complete. It wasn't like Simmons to forget to ask someone something either. Then again, it was hard to say how many baseline physicals Simmons had been required to administer. She was a research scientist more than a field scientist after all.

 

Leaning back casually, Skye shrugged a little and twisted in her seat to turn her full attention on the scientist. Without thought, she crossed her arms under her chest in a show of defiance that reminded Phil a lot of his own standard 'what is it' look. A look he shared with Rowen. “Alright, shoot.”

 

Simmons glanced quickly at Phil and Ward, before dropping her eyes back to Skye. Whatever it was, apparently it was something she didn't think Skye would want them to know. “Right here?”

 

“Sure, why not,” countered Skye with a shrug. “I'm assuming if it was really embarrassing, you'd have called me to the lab or something.”

 

“Right,” sighed Simmons nervously, the look on her face saying she hadn't even considered that. Glancing once more at Phil and Ward, she handed Skye the piece of paper, pointing at a question on the paper while clearing her throat a bit. “Um, could you just answer this question please?”

 

Skye's brow furrowed a little, before she looked up at Simmons with a raised eyebrow. “'When was your last menstrual cycle'? That one?”

 

Phil felt himself pale. This was something he didn't need to know. No father needed to know when their daughter's menstrual cycle is, though Skye apparently didn't care. She doesn't know you're her father yet, remember? You haven't told her that little detail?

 

“Yes, that's the one,” confirmed a blushing Simmons, drawing Phil's attention back to the conversation. She glanced at Ward and Phil again, this time apologetically.

 

Skye shrugged a bit, holding the paper out for Simmons. “About five months ago.”

 

Phil felt himself pale, choking and sputtering at her response. Both Simmons and Ward looked like they might be close to passing out; their duel exclamation of 'What?!' would be amusing if the situation were less serious. No one expected that answer.

 

When did Skye get pregnant? wondered Phil, almost borderline panicking. When did she have the chance?! If it was Ward I will throw him out of the cargo bay myself! Wait, no, that guy she was dating before...Miles! If he's responsible I will make him disappear. Truly disappear. In a very painful way.

 

“Skye, why didn't you tell us!” exclaimed Simmons, managing to voice what everyone else was thinking. Just in a shriller voice, if Skye's wince was any indication.

 

Blinking in confusion, Skye raised an eyebrow at them like they were all insane. “Tell you guys what? I didn't think my period was anyone's business but mine.”

 

“Not that!” exclaimed Simmons, shaking her head rapidly. “That you're pregnant!”

 

Skye actually laughed at that, doubling over as her shoulders began to quake. She stayed like that for a solid minute as they blinked at her in confusion. Finally, she managed to right herself and speak, wiping tears from her face. “Guys, do I look pregnant?”

 

Well, she has a point there. Especially at five months, she should be showing. Briefly, his mind jumped to the idea of Rowen five months pregnant, his brain projecting an illusion of what she might look like. It makes his heart clinch for a moment to think he missed that sight before pushing the thought away. Dwelling wasn't going to change what happened; he needed to move forward, not think about her pregnant with his child. She lied to you, Phil, and you're angry about that! Remember, angry!

 

Simmons' voice drew Phil back to the situation at hand. “But you've gone five months without getting your period.” Apparently, any embarrassment the scientist had been facing was throwing out the window in the face of her scientific interest.

 

Shrugging a bit, Skye leaned back like it wasn't anything abnormal and looked back towards her game board. “Yeah, I usually get it twice a year for a week apiece.”

 

Well, that's definitely more information than I needed, thought Phil with a shake of his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Definitely not details he ever needed about one of his agents or his own daughter.

 

“Well, that is definitely not normal,” muttered Simmons, shaking her head slowly. Phil nodded in agreement, opening his eyes to look back at the group. He might be a man, but even he went through basic health class. He nearly failed it, but he'd attended it all the same.

 

“It's not exactly the only abnormal thing about me,” pointed out Skye as she tried to relax back into her chair.

 

She was right too; the natural streak of blond hair was weird, though it struck some kind of a cord with Phil. Something began nagging at the back of his mind- a memory he'd long put to bed. An image of a woman flashed through his mind.

 

A heavy curtain of untamed black hair hanging around a pale face, crimson flashes shining in the room's dim light. Green eyes with yellow cores flashed slightly at him, set in a face that made his heart hurt with its familiarity. Red lips, unpainted like the rest of her face, parting slightly as if to speak.

 

He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the image from his mind. The dim room shifted to a bright beach on Tahiti, but it's not the Tahiti he remembers. It's a different Tahiti, inhabited by a woman he can barely see.

 

She stands in the waves, dancing through them in a light blue, semi transparent dress. The ocean bite at the hem as she hums a song he can't hear. Her hair, black with streaks of red cutting through it, dances around her body as her eyes flash in the sun.

 

Forcefully, Phil shook the thought away. Tahiti was a lie; he needed to stop treating it like it was real. He needed to focus on the conversation at hand. Taking a deep but subtle breath, he forcefully refocused on the conversation he (really) didn't want to hear to begin with.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil watched as Ward shook his head and leaned forward in his chair, bracing his arms on his legs. “That was more than I needed to know about you, Rookie.”

 

Shrugging, Skye slouched down, eyes darting to meet Phil's momentarily before looking back at Ward. “Yeah, well, now you know. I don't exactly care who knows about that, anyway.”

 

“So, when do you think, exactly, you will get it again?” questioned Simmons, any reservations about this topic fading away completely to Phil's horror. He should leave, but he knew that he couldn't all the same. If Simmons began to get to nosy, he could stop her with an order. Otherwise, Skye would just have to hold her own against her

 

“Probably next month,” replied Skye, shifting a bit in her chair. It was the look Phil had been anticipating; even Skye had her limits when it came to personal invasions of privacy.

 

“Simmons, don't you have paperwork to complete?” asked Phil, nodding to the now completed paper in the young biochemist's hands.

 

Glancing down at the paper as if she'd just remembering about it, Simmons jumped a bit and nodded like a bobble head. “Right, yes sir, of course. I'll get this finished immediately sir.” With that, Simmons hurried back into the cargo and presumably to the lab, her rapid foot-falls disappearing as she reached the cargo bay floor.

 

Silence hung in the room in the wake of the scientist's departure. Based on the way he kept glancing at and then away from Skye, Ward had clearly learned more than he wanted to ever know about Skye. And Phil completely agreed. Even Skye seemed uneasy now that Simmons has left, though it seemed more thoughtful than embarrassed.

 

Which was probably why she was the one to break the silence. “AC, Simmons brings up a point.”

 

One of Phil's eyebrows rose as he tried to figure out what point, if any, Simmons' discussion of the hacker's period could make. “What point, Skye?”

 

Gulping a little, Skye glanced at Ward like she wasn't sure she wanted to speak in front of her SO. For his part, Ward looked like he wasn't inclined to leave at the moment. “Maybe we should talk in private.”

 

“Skye, I already know more about this whole thing than I ever wanted to,” reminded Ward. “I doubt whatever you're going to tell Coulson is going to really do anymore damage.”

 

“Maybe,” murmured Skye, though she still looked uneasy.

 

“We can speak in my office, if you want,” offered Phil, shooting a look at Ward which clearly says 'do not argue'. Ward wisely kept his mouth shut.

 

Nodding, Skye stood and stretched out her arms. Phil stood at the same time, glaring at Ward when he caught the man staring unnecessarily at Skye. “Agent Ward, don't you have paperwork to do?”

 

Ward looked put out and even a little wounded, but nodded all the same. “Yes, sir.”

 

His disappointment was clear, but Phil suspected that whatever Skye wanted to talk about really was better kept from Ward. If she was reluctant to tell him, then Phil wasn't going to push the matter. It's not his place. Besides, who knew what Skye wanted to discuss? If it was something Ward needed to know, he'd encourage Skye to tell her SO. Otherwise, Ward didn't need to know.

 

Silently, Phil lead Skye towards his office. The hacker was oddly silent, either deep in thought or nervous about the impending conversation, which couldn't be good for him. _I really, really hope I'm not about to learn more about Skye than I need to know._ He might want to learn more about her, but that interest didn't include everything there was to know about her.

 

Leading her into his office, he closed the door before stepping around to settle behind his desk. “Alright Skye, what's on your mind.”

 

Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward against the back of one of Phil's visitor chairs and let the breath out slowly. “I need to not work with Ward in the field for the next month.”

 

Well, that wasn't what he was expecting. _Why wouldn't Skye want to work with Ward? Specifically for a month? She said she'll probably get her period, but that's not a reason not to work with someone. Right?_ Settling further into his chair, Phil leaned forward to rest his arms on his desk. “Is there a reason?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Skye, finally dropping into the chair she had been leaning on. “Look, this is gonna be TMI, but someone on here needs to know. And I get it if you want me off the plane for the next month too-”

 

“Skye,” cut in Phil, halting her rant. “I'm not going to kick you off the bus for any reason. Understand? I'm willing to grant your request if you can give me a good reason.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Skye pushed forward rapidly. “When I'm gonna get my period, guys start doing stupid stuff around me and I don't want Ward to get hurt doing something stupid because I'm doing something I don't even want to be doing that makes him go loony.”

 

Blinking, Phil tried to understand exactly what Skye was saying while wondering if he should lift his radio silence with Rowen and just let her deal with this. Seriously, he'd dealt with every kind of issue imaginable and he couldn't even begin to figure out what, exactly, Skye was trying to say. “I don't understand. Most men act like idiots around beautiful women when they're your age, but Ward is a trained agent. He should be alright.”

 

Groaning, Skye shook her head. “No, I mean, it doesn't _matter_ how passive or controlled the guy normally is: for the three weeks beforehand, guys get stupider than normal.”

 

Leaning back again, Phil shook his head once, his hand rising to rub his eyes. “So, let me get this straight: you're afraid that Ward is going to do something stupid if you work with him for the three weeks before you get your period.”

 

“Yes,” confirmed Skye with a sigh. “It always happens and I- I like Ward too much to put him in danger like that.”

 

Opening his eyes again, Phil examined Skye. Her shoulders were slumped, her head slightly lowered, and her gaze was solely on her hands by now. Everything about her screamed 'worried'. It was strange, seeing the normally level-headed hacker so out of sorts. “Why are you so worried? Give me some kind of reason, Skye. Proof.”

 

Standing in frustration, Skye walked part way to the door, stopped, and spun back to Phil. “I'm worried because it's happened before.” One of Phil's eyebrows rose in response, silently prompting her to explain. Which she did, with a heavy sigh. “About a year before I dropped out of high school, these three guys suddenly started crushing on me one week. Well, it was more than three but there were three that were the most persistent.” Glancing up at Phil, she slowly returned to the chair she'd previously inhabited.

 

Leaning on the back again, she took another deep breath and pushed onward. “They sorta pushed away the other guys and at first I was okay with it. I mean, none of these guys actually _liked_ me, it was just my time of the, er, year.” Smirking a bit sadly, she tried to meet his eyes. She lasted about twenty seconds before her eyes dropped back to the chair in what Phil could only imagine was embarrassment. “So, these three guys are kinda pushing the other guys around but they're just nice to me, so I ignored it and figured 'hey, it'll pass when my period finally comes like it always does'. Which, well, it did. But not before one of the guys tried to ask me out. The other two were hanging around and heard. They-” her voice cut off for a moment before she was able to draw a breath, “the other two guys beat him so badly he had to be hospitalized. And when he was on the ground, bleeding and unmoving, they turned on each other.”

 

Phil wanted to hug Skye. It was his first instinct- either because he's her father or because she's his agent. Probably both, if he's honest. It made him a little sick knowing that she had to witness something like that, especially because it clearly scarred her for life. He wanted to reassure her, but somehow everything sounded hollow in his head. “Skye, if someone tries to take you, it's not going to matter if you're doing....whatever it is you unintentionally do or not. Ward would beat anyone who tries to hurt you into the ground at the drop of a hat. I'll do the same. The only way he'll do something that will risk his life is if it's for a mission or to save you or someone else on this team.” Skye still didn't look convinced though, and frankly, Phil wasn't either. If Skye was anything like her mother, then she had a power over men that couldn't be explained. He'd witnessed that power first hand more than once. “That being said, if it'll make you feel more comfortable, I won't place you with Ward on any missions that we're handed in the next month unless I have no other choice. Fair?”

 

Skye paused before answering, her mind running over his offer. Nodding tentatively, met his eyes resignedly. “Alright, agreed.” Sighing, she twiddled her thumbs slightly, like it would somehow distract her from the reality of their situation. “The symptoms will probably kick up in the next week, if they haven't already.”

 

“How will we know?” asked Phil, tamping down his own resignation and discomfort. This was information he needed to know. That didn't mean he wanted to know, but he had to in order to keep peace on his Bus.

 

“Trust me,” sighed Skye, shaking her head. “You'll know. Ward'll probably get prickly and Fitz might get more....puppy like.” Looking up at him with fearful eyes, she gulped a little as she added: “you might even feel it. Seems like anyone with a y-chromosome gets hit.”

 

The way Phil's stomach churned violently told a completely different story. No, he wouldn't be affected because Skye is his daughter and it was wrong in so many ways. Beyond that though, there was some inkling in the back of his mind that said it wouldn't happen; some little nugget of information that wouldn't leave him alone. Images flashed rapidly through his mind as the sensation grew stronger, blurry and difficult to distinguish. A large stone fountain, a forest, a flat-stone home. The images flashed rapidly through his mind, culminating in a flash of that same black-and-red haired woman from before, standing in a stone hallway with a large leather book in hand and a confused look on her tilted face. Green-yellow eyes stared into his like he held some answer she couldn't find and her lips moved as if she spoke, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

 

“AC? You okay?” Skye's voice broke him out of his thoughts, drawing his attention back to her. It almost gave him whiplash.

 

“I'm fine Skye,” assured Phil quickly, shaking his head to dispel the last of the images. “I was just thinking."

 

Skye just nodded, looking away like she didn't want to know. “So, yeah, that's all I wanted to say.”

 

“Thank you for telling me, Skye,” thanked Phil, rubbing his eyes. “I'm not concerned about myself but I will keep an eye on the others and if there is a problem, we'll find a way to settle it.”

 

“Thanks AC,” thanked Skye with a sigh. “Sorry.”

 

Shaking his head, Phil finally stood up and walked around his desk to his daughter. He wanted to hug her. “It's not your fault or your choice Skye, you don't have to apologize.”

 

“I know,” sighed Skye. “But I should have thought about it when I came on board.”

 

Phil's brow furrowed a bit when she brought that up, mentally doing some math. “Skye, you've been on board for over 8 months now. Why hasn't this come up before?”

 

Glancing at the floor, Skye fiddled with her fingers as she spoke. “Well, I kinda got people pissed at me and that helped deter it, I think.”

 

Phil considered her words for a moment before their meaning settled in. Miles. The incident with Miles. “When you slept with Miles.”

 

“There are other symptoms that only get to me,” confirmed Skye, eyes still on the floor. “I can handle them, but it was just....I thought it would be easier if I got _some_ relief before I got back on the bus.”

 

It made sense. The thought made Phil's stomach violently turn and he wanted more than anything to track Miles back down if only so he could throw him out of the Bus, but it made sense in a way. “Was that the only reason you warned him?”

 

Skye shook her head, finally looking up at Phil. Her voice was a combination of frustrated and pained. “No, everything I told you was true. I was trying to help him out because I really didn't think he was stupid or selfish enough to _sell_ potentially harmful information to anyone.”

 

Phil had the good grace to wince. He knew Miles' betrayal had been a shock. How it hadn't completely shattered Skye's ability to trust anyone, he wasn't sure. It was the primary reason why he hadn't kicked her off the plane with the man: he knew she'd made a mistake. He'd had to punish her, but he knew it was a mistake of trusting the wrong person. Even he'd done that.

 

“I understand Skye, I just had to ask,” assured Phil gently, leaning on his desk. This whole thing was getting awkward and he really didn't want to keep going along this line of conversation. “Was there anything else?”

 

“No,” replied Skye, relief crossing her face as if she was equally done with the conversation. Standing, she glanced at Phil once more like she wanted to say something before closing her mouth again and shaking her head. “Thanks, AC.”

 

“I'm here if you ever have concerns or questions,” stated Phil simply. She should know that by now, but it always bared repeating.

 

“Thanks AC,” repeated Skye, waving awkwardly as she left his office. Really, it was one of the most awkward conversations he'd ever had. The only thing that topped it might have been a discussion he had to have with Rowen concerning sexual kinks for a mission.

 

Sighing as soon as his door was shut, Phil leaned back against his desk and scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed....he wasn't even sure what. A drink sounded good right at that moment, but a nap sounded better. His lack of sleep was starting to get to him. But he had work to do....

 

“Fuck it,” muttered Phil, pushing away from his desk and yanking off his tie before sliding off his jacket. He needed a nap right now, otherwise he wasn't going to be helpful to anyone. So a nap was.

 

 


	4. Don't Ask Questions If You Can't Get The Answers- It's Just Frustrating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil has a weird dream that leads to a talk that lands him with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's more May and Phil. Sorry for the marked lack of Skye up until now, but I promise it's coming.

_Warmth baths his throat and skin, presses along the edge of his body just to his left. It's a comfort, a presence he wants to be closer to. Without thought, he tries to reach for that warmth, draw it closer, only to discover it's already safely tucked in his arms. Another body, soft and pliant in the early morning. The second body shifts then, wiggling slightly as a familiar, soft voice slips into his sleep addled mind._

 

“ _Maidin mhaith_ _.” Rowen's Celtic lit slides into Phil's ear, nearly making him shiver. He can't understand a word she's saying, but he loves her whispered Celtic words all the same. It makes him feel oddly safe._

 

“ _E'en sleepy, can't understand....” counters Phil, his brain too shut down to respond with much more._

 

_He can feel the soft laugh that slides from her chest into his, causing him to bury his face further into her throat. It turns into a different sound entirely as soon as his lips meet the skin beneath them. Which is about when Phil realizes that she isn't wearing anything._

 

_Not. One. Thing._

 

_They're in bed, naked, and she isn't running away. And he doesn't feel like he's violated her against her will. It takes a moment, but the previous night comes back to him all the same. Cooking together, laughing, her making a joke as they clean up, him crowding behind her, her hand gripping his as she lead him to the bedroom.... he can remember everything clearly. It was magical._

 

_And the way she's pressing closer indicates she's more than willing to do it again._

 

“ _Chodail tú go maith_ _?” Her words slip down his back like a chill. Hearing her speak another language shouldn't be this hot, but somehow Celtic coming from her lips is._

 

“ _Still can't understand you,” murmurs Phil, rolling them so she's laying on top of him. There's a moment she blinks down at him in surprise before the surprise slips into a smirk. Then they're kissing and touching, pressed tightly together._

 

_But when Phil pulls back and opens his eyes again, it isn't Rowen on top of him. It's the masseuse, who says something in her native tongue before slipping down his body. And Phil knows this isn't right; knows this has to be a mistake because, no, it isn't supposed to be the masseuse. It's supposed to be Rowen and she isn't supposed to slip down his body like that. He's supposed to keep her in his arms while he kisses and then, eventually, makes love to her. They're supposed to hold each other tight as they recover, exchanging soft kisses and whispered words of love. It's wrong, all wrong._

 

\--------------------------------

 

A shout sent him shooting up in bed, sweating and shaking. It took him a second to realize it was his own shout that had woken him and the knowledge had him resting his forehead on his knee as he tried to catch his breath. For a moment, the conflicting images lingered in his head, making him feel like he was watching two screens with two nearly identical movies at once. It was wrong. The whole image with the masseuse was wrong. He wasn't in Tahiti with her, he was there with Rowen. _Except I was never in Tahiti, period. I wasn't there and it was all a lie._

 

It wasn't a nightmare, not quite, because, well, his body certainly didn't find it that way. But his mind couldn't make sense of the matter; it was like someone had tried to write over his memories with nearly identical memories. Like someone tried to erase his recovery so he'd remember something different.

 

“What the hell did they do to me?” whispered Phil, leaning back against the wall behind his bed and staring up at the ceiling of the bus. “What the hell happened?”

 

He couldn't make sense of any of it and he couldn't manage to keep his head straight either. Everything about this whole situation was wrong and he needed to find answers. Who'd been playing around in his head? Why had they erased his memories? What was the purpose behind all of it? Had he really just been some pawn to be operated on, to test this new technology on without consent? Could a dead person really consent to anything? _God, I need a drink._

 

A knock at the door brought Phil rapidly out of his thoughts, shooting his attention to the thin piece of polycarbonate covered aluminum. It repeated less than a second later, rapidly, but no words came through the door. If he'd disturbed Simmons or Fitz, they'd be calling for him. Skye would sound more frantic and Ward would probably have spoken up by now. That left May as the only person on the plane who would be knocking.

 

Groaning, he pulled himself from his bed and headed for the door to his office. The knocking had ceased by now, but he knew the culprit was still outside. He'd have heard someone move away if they weren't May and May wouldn't leave until he opened the door. Her determination was one of the reasons he was actually responding and not just waiting for her to go away.

 

Opening the door, he leveled a look at the dark-haired woman waiting outside his door. Externally, he tried to not look as freaked out as he was. “Problem, May?”

 

“You were screaming,” stated May simply, cocking her eyebrow at him. “I wanted to make sure you weren't being murdered.”

 

A touch of a sarcastic smile tilted the corner of Coulson's lips. “I promise, the only potential psychopath on this plane is currently doing paperwork, hopefully in his own bunk.”

 

Sighing, May pushed past Phil into his office, turning to face him from the center of the room. Her arms crossed over her chest and she leveled a deeply concerned look at him. “What's going on Phil?”

 

Great, and now he was going to face a May interrogation. How was he supposed to explain to her that Skye is his daughter? And that her mother is apparently the same woman he was chasing years ago (and if he's honest with himself, was still chasing when he put together his team)? Right now, he doesn't want to discuss any of this, he just wants a damn drink. _Fuck it. I can have a drink if I want._

 

Heading to the cabinet he used as a bar, Phil pulled a bottle of scotch from the cabinet and two glasses, heading to his desk. May wasn't going to leave him alone, he knew that from experience. Even if he got her to leave, she'd just give him that penetrating stare every time she saw him until he spilled his guts to her. Besides, telling someone else might make him feel better. Maybe. It wouldn't be everything, but maybe he could tell her just some things. Maybe she'd be able to help him figure this all out. He just didn't know how much he wanted to tell her. It didn't seem right to say anything about Skye until he'd told her, at least. He needed to stall and maybe distract her.

 

Dropping into the chair behind his desk, he opened the bottle and began to carefully fill the glasses. “It was just a nightmare.”

 

May silently approached the other chair, the one Skye had occupied just a few hours earlier, and dropped into it easily. As soon as he finished filling the first glass, she leaned forward and took it. “This isn't just the nightmare. There's the phone calls too.”

 

“What about those?” asked Phil, glaring slightly at May. “I told you that was a private matter.”

 

“A private matter that I'm willing to bet had you screaming in your sleep,” stated May, sipping at the scotch lightly. They were parked for the moment, until further orders were issued. From what he could tell, those orders weren't coming any time soon. Not until they had a lead on Quinn. “So, care to explain what's going on?”

 

No, he really didn't. This was a topic he didn't want to broach with May at all. But he knew the look on her face: the one where she was eying him like a predator eyes its prey, looking for any sign of weakness that could be exploited. She was good at exploiting weaknesses, too. Taking down those who underestimated her was one of her best skills. Beyond that, she was one of the few people he trusted completely on this plane. She had his back, he at least owed her the courtesy of an explanation. Or part of one. If she figured out the rest on her own (and she would figure something was up), then that was her deal. Who knew if she knew about Rowen or not.

 

Sighing, Phil dropped his head back and tried to figure out where to being. The logical starting point, of course, was with Skye. The problem was, Phil wasn't sure he wanted to explain that it's specifically _Skye_ who's his daughter. Especially if May figures out there's something off with Rowen. Of course, it would explain how Skye got labeled an 0-8-4. Especially with a grandfather like Loki. Who knew what kind of crazy alien magic she might have used or been using when they found her?

 

“Try starting with what you were arguing with Fury and Le Fay about last night,” suggested May, sipping her scotch again. How she knew he was struggling with where to start, he wasn't sure. It wasn't impatience that lead to that comment though; it was her way of trying to help him start explaining. After all, he was usually the one who did all the talking. If he didn't speak right away, he was struggling to explain.

 

Sighing again, Phil threw back the scotch and decided to just begin talking and hope he didn't mention anything he didn't want to. “This doesn't leave this room, I want that made clear now. Nothing I say gets back to anyone for now, not until I've spoken with the people who should be hearing this well before you or anyone else does.”

 

May's raised eyebrow was the closest thing to consent he was going to get. She clearly wasn't going to say anything more until Phil did.

 

Taking a deep breath, Phil forced the words out of his mouth. “I have a child. A daughter. That's what the phone calls were about last night. It was me confirming the information.”

 

“With Le Fay,” stated May simply, raising a curious eyebrow. He could see she the question forming in her head: When had he slept with Le Fay and when had Le Fay been pregnant?

 

Clearing his throat a bit, Phil's eyes fell to his empty glass and, without a thought, he poured himself another. “She's the child's mother.” He sipped the second glass of liquid, preferring the soothing slow burn to the sharp one before. Scotch was _not_ a shot-alcohol. Keeping his eyes trained on his glass, he continued to explain in a way he hoped would make sense. “I slept with her six years ago, but that wasn't when she had the child. The kid's too old and I would have known if she was pregnant after that...encounter.”

 

“She was already working for SHIELD when it happened,” stated May calmly, her eyes narrowing in consideration. “It was your brother's wedding.”

 

Phil jumped a little. How the hell did she know that? He hadn't exactly broadcast the fact that he'd taken Rowen to that event. Had he? “How did you know?”

 

“You two started acting like embarrassed school children after that,” explained May simply. “Rowen disappeared for a month and you stopped talking about her, like her name was a curse.”

 

Groaning, Phil dropped his head onto his arms crossed on his desk. Of course. If May knew, then everyone probably did, too. Great. Without thought, he spoke again. “How did this happen? How did we end up with a kid?”

 

The sound May made might have been an a sign of mild amusement, coming from anyone else. From her, it was a laugh. The only thing that passed as one since Bahrain. “I really hope you already know the mechanics of sex, Phil. Basic health should have taught you that well before now.”

 

“Ha, ha,” growled Phil, glaring at her over his forearms. Still, a sarcastic remark from May was better than what he'd been getting from her since she joined the team. He wasn't going to argue. Sitting back up, he took another gulp of his drink and explained the part that had been getting to him from the beginning. “I don't even remember sleeping with her, that's the thing. I wasn't in Ireland for the entire year the child could have been conceived, I wasn't there the year before, and I wasn't there for the next three years after.”

 

For a moment, May was completely silent as she looked at Phil, but it wasn't a 'go on' silence. The silence was more of a 'let me think' one. So, Phil waited a moment and let her think. Who knew, maybe she could come up with something he wasn't thinking of.

 

“How old is this daughter?” asked May at last, breaking the silence with a practical question Phil realized she wouldn't know the answer to. He'd said he had a daughter, not how old she was.

 

“24,” replied Phil, though he paused after he said that. It was hard to say how old Skye really was; she could be younger or older than the age she'd given them. He really hoped she wasn't though, otherwise he'd never figure this out. “At least, she said she was 24.”

 

Again, silence fell between them, only now May looked suspicious. Suspicious was bad. There was no way May could guess who his daughter was though, right? That wasn't possible, was it?

 

“So, this unknown daughter of yours is 24,” repeated May, still eying Phil suspiciously. “You were in the military 25 years ago, correct?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Phil with a nod and a small half smile. “Rangers lead the way.”

 

Nodding slowly, May looked more and more certain. Her mind was scary sometimes and Phil had watched her put answers together in ways no one would ever believe possible. “Where were you stationed.”

 

How many times had he asked himself that question by now? More than he could remember. If Rowen really was an alien from Asgard though, that meant she could have been anywhere, not just Ireland. A sick feeling twisted Phil's stomach as he realized how little about Rowen anyone in SHIELD actually knew. She could be a mass-murderer hiding on Earth for all they knew. He didn't really believe that of course; if she were psychopathic, it would have probably manifested somehow by now. But with a father like Loki? Who knew what was possible.

 

Forcing his mind away from the flood of questions invading his mind, Phil turned his focus back on May. She'd asked where he was stationed; he could do that. “Several places. They moved us around then. Mostly Germany that year though.”

 

“Alright, does anyone you slept with stand out?” continued May, as if they were having a conversation about the weather and not his past sexual conquests. “Particularly in Germany?”

 

If Phil were honest with himself, the topic was making him nervous. He and May had a history, and telling her that she was just one of a list of people who shared a history with him wasn't....ideal. Besides, he hadn't slept with _that_ many women. Well, not since he left the gang. “You make it sound like I slept with hundreds of women.”

 

“I know you, Phil,” stated May levelly. The look on her face, particularly the way she quirked her eyebrow in challenge, reflected what her voice said: she knew he wasn't a saint. She knew he had a list of conquests a mile long. Or, at least she thought he did. If he was completely honest, the list of women he'd slept with in his life was under 20. Probably. There were a few drunken incidents he couldn't guarantee that with; there might have been more than one woman there.

 

_Drunken incidents. Why is that ringing a bell. Drunk...._

 

An image from before slipped back into his mind. The one of the dark-haired woman with the red streaks and green-yellow eyes seated in the bar. It was fuzzy, hard to see her clearly, probably because of the beer he'd been drinking that night. He could remember comparing her to another woman though, the one he'd met when he was 17 and still thought he was tough shit. The one who hadn't spoken English.  _The woman in Germany didn't speak English well either. It was like she was still trying to learn the language._ Violently, Phil told his mind to shut up. He hadn't slept with Rowen three times, he just hadn't. The woman from when he was 17 had been a random girl from a rival gang sent to kill the leaders of the gang he was in. That was it, nothing more. She wasn't some goddess, she'd just been a teenager like him who didn't speak any English. 

 

Sighing, Phil opted to select the woman in the bar as the starting point. For some reason, he just couldn't shake her. “There was one woman, in a bar. I slept with her because....” His voice trailed off as he debated sharing the next part. It wasn't really necessary for May to understand why he slept with that woman, but he didn't want her to think it was just some random fling. Why it was important that people not think the woman from the bar (Peggy; she'd said her name was Peggy even though he knew it wasn't) was a one-time only fling, he didn't know. But for whatever reason it was important and his mind wouldn't let him get away with talking about her without precluding it with that part of the story. “She reminded me of someone.”

 

Nodding once, May leaned forward so her elbows were resting on her knees. It made her look younger, but Phil knew the primary purpose of the move was to make her seem more approachable. It was deliberate and unnatural looking. “Who did she remind you of?”

 

“Why does that matter?” countered Phil quickly, raising an eyebrow at the other agent. His lips pressed into a thin line as a bit of anxiety started to creep in. He didn't talk much about his delinquency days as a minor, mainly because they were days he would rather put behind him. Telling May about a woman from back then, even if he'd never forgotten her, wasn't putting it behind him.

 

The blank-faced look May gave him said it all: her reasons for asking didn't matter, just his answer did. Clearly, she thought there was a connection, even though there wasn't. Just because the woman from the bar and the woman he'd pinned against the wall of that abandoned warehouse had looked the same didn't make them the same person. Peggy could speak English for example. “They weren't the same woman, Melinda.”

 

“Who did she remind you of Phil?” repeated May. Her voice didn't change, but there was a tone that clearly told him that he wasn't winning this one. She wasn't going to let him get away with leaving out parts of this story.

 

Why it mattered, he didn't know. But honestly? He wasn't in the mood to argue, either. They weren't the same woman, the one from Boston and Peggy. May wouldn't let it drop until he convinced her of that though. Taking a deep breath, Phil tried to recall what little he'd told her about that time in his life. “Back when I was in the fighting gang in Boston, there was a woman I met who attended one of the fights. She...convinced me to get out of underground fighting.”

 

“I thought you got yourself out,” remarked May calmly, one of her eyebrows rising curiously.

 

He'd told her the more detailed story before, in a bar after too many drinks. He'd talked about being a teen forced to transplant from Chicago to Boston and how he'd fallen in with a bad gang; about how one night the gang's leaders had been murdered and that had driven him out of the gang. That part wasn't completely true, though. He'd left out one crucial detail: the woman who'd most likely murdered both heads had passed him in the alley as she fled, and stopped long enough for them to have a rather memorable encounter against a brick wall. That last detail was one he'd left out. Sexual promiscuity was common among the fighters and, even though he'd not been there for sex, he certainly hadn't refrained from partaking either. He couldn't remember all of the details he'd shared, but he swore the woman had been excluded and assumed May didn't remember the details either. They hadn't exactly been drinking lightly, after all. Apparently he'd been the only one pushing the sobriety line, though.

 

Taking another gulp of his drink, he set the tumbler aside and tried to think of how to explain this without sounding like a horny teenaged asshole. Not that he hadn't been exactly that but, well, he'd put that behind him. It wasn't necessary to dig all of that back up again. “I left under my own power, but the _reason_ I left was because of a woman I met. Something about her just...took away all my frustration and anger, everything that had been driving me to that life to begin with.” Shaking his head, he tried to think of a way to explain exactly what had followed their encounter. If he could avoid telling May there had been an actual _encounter_ , all the better. “It was like, by having contact with her, she somehow grounded me. Reestablished a connection with reality I didn't know I was missing.”

 

One of May's eyebrows shot up so high it looked as if it could reach her hairline. The flat look that went along with it said she thought he was bordering on insanity. “You know how crazy that sounds.”

 

“Believe me,” groaned Phil, dropping his head against one of his hands in defeat. Of course he knew how insane it sounded, but there was no other way to explain it. He'd gone from being full of rage to being at peace. No more uncontrollable rage, anger, or drive to fight. Those urges were still there, but it was like someone had dialed everything down to a level he could manage. “I know.”

 

Shaking her head, May took another sip of her scotch before setting the glass aside and turning her eyes on Coulson in a way that made him feel like he was being interrogated. Which, well, he was in a way. May was analyzing everything that he said, turning it around, and using it to keep questioning him. It was helpful, of course, leading him to conclusions he might not on his own, but it still felt intrusive. “So, why couldn't Rowen be this woman you slept with?”

 

“What?” yelped Phil slightly, raising his eyes to look at May in surprise. No, no, no, Rowen was not the woman from Boston. He'd said that already to himself. May must mean the woman from Germany, right?

 

“Why couldn't she be the woman from Boston,” stated May simply, eliminating any confusion Phil was banking on for the conversation to turn anywhere else.

 

Well, shit. Now he had to face that particular reality, though it really didn't matter except for the fact that the idea he'd slept with Rowen three times independently without realizing it had implications he did _not_ want to visit with. “Why does it matter?”

 

“Because it establishes a pattern,” stated May simply. She shook her head slowly, giving him a look that said he clearly didn't understand. “Could she be the same woman, Phil?”

 

Groaning and dropping his head back to the desk, Phil tried to give a response without lifting his head. It may have come out as a muffled jumble, it was hard to say. “I don't know. Peggy said she'd never been to Boston.”

 

“Peggy being the woman in Germany,” stated May simply, face blank. Phil could see her mind racing through scenarios though, rapidly considering and dismissing different possible answers. “Are you sure Peggy was her real name?”

 

“No,” admitted Phil, lifting his head a little to shake it. Pain was probably visible across his face; just thinking about Peggy and Germany was a bit of a sore spot. They'd known going in that there was nothing more they could be than partners for a night and a day, but that hadn't meant she didn't invade his dreams on occasion.

 

Nodding once more, slowly, the pilot again sipped her drink while watching Phil with calm eyes. “Then why does the idea that she could have been Rowen upset you?”

 

“Because that means I slept with Rowen three times by coincidence,” growled Phil, shaking his head. “If Rowen and Peggy and the woman from Boston are all the same woman, then I've been with the same woman I thought I'd only slept once with three different times. And that creates implications I don't want to entertain.”

 

“So don't entertain them,” stated May simply, shrugging. “Accept the idea that you've slept with the same woman three times as a fact and go with it.”

 

Phil lifted his head completely to blink at May. Hard. There was no way May could know they were all the same person. Right? “How do you know it was her?”

 

“I don't from personal experience,” replied May calmly. “But somehow your mind linked the three. You thought of Peggy when trying to remember when you slept with Rowen, and you slept with Peggy because she reminded you of the woman from Boston. The obvious conclusion is that you on some level associated the three, likely because they're the same person.”

 

Staring at May silently, Phil tried to think of a good good response. But really, what was a good response to that? He didn't have proof they were all the same person, but May's logic was sound. Maybe there was something between the three his mind was seeing that he couldn't.

 

“Am I wrong?” prompted May quietly, raising an eyebrow as she drew his attention back to her.

 

Thinking back on it, Phil mentally placed all three women in a row. Immediately, several things stood out in his mind: all three were the same height, had the same facial features, and the same stance when they stood or moved. Their hair and eyes were the only things that were different, and even Rowen was the only different one in that category with solid black hair and green eyes instead of the streaked and multicolored ones of the other two. Even their voices, despite the fact he heard them all speaking different languages with different levels of fluency, sounded the same.

 

“They looked like the same person,” admitted Phil quietly. “They all even sound the same. Rowen's German sounds the same as Peggy's and Rowen's Celtic is identical to the woman from Boston's.” Shaking his head, Phil rested it back against his arm. “In the bar, I told myself Peggy and the Boston woman weren't the same person because it wasn't possible. I did the same thing when I met Rowen.”

 

“Maybe it is possible,” stated May, giving Phil a calm look. “Your mind is drawing connections for a good reason. Your instincts were always good, so trust them.”

 

Blinking at May sadly, he tried to reconcile what he knew of Rowen with the permanent image of the woman he'd slept with that night. But no matter how he twisted it, he couldn't make the connection. Rowen was...nothing like the woman from Boston. The woman from Boston had been...almost dead in her nature. Like she was a robot. It had only lifted when she'd slipped between him and the wall. He'd watched her bloom before his eyes as she offered him a smile and her body. But even though he'd been the one with her pinned to the wall, she'd been the one calling the shots. They couldn't even speak the same language, but they'd managed to communicate all the same. Like they'd synced up in a way he couldn't describe. The same way he'd synced up with Rowen their second mission out. Like he'd synced up with Peggy the night in Germany.

 

But the actions of the three women didn't sync up. The three women, all so similar in appearance, were like different people. And he couldn't see Rowen doing the same thing the woman from Boston had. “May, the woman who got me out of fighting murdered two people the night I slept with her.”

 

“What?” questioned May, raising a surprised and disbelieving eyebrow.  
  


“The heads of the group were found dead in their room that evening,” explained Phil quietly. “I didn't know that before I slept with her. But when I thought about it, she's the only one who could have done it. She was new, and when she stopped to engage me, I think she was fleeing.”

 

“That makes no sense,” pointed out May. “She would have tried to get away, not stopped for sex.”

 

Phil shook his head, thinking back on how she'd acted. The way she'd met his eyes as she pulled her clothing back into place as the racket went up inside and disappeared down the alley calm as could be. It was like she'd done this same thing hundreds of times. Like it was second nature. “The woman who I was with that night acted like a professional.”

 

“Maybe she was,” stated May quietly. “She wasn't always engaged in legal activities, correct?”

 

“Except she didn't perform assassinations for the IRA,” countered Phil, shaking his head. “She left because a bomb took out innocent people. Besides, why would she go after the heads of a low-grade fighting gang in Boston?”

 

May shrugged a bit, reaching for her drink again and taking a sip. “Were they bad people?”

 

“Yes,” stated Phil immediately. He felt horrible saying it- they'd taken him in and given him a place when he'd needed one. But they had been horrible people who had encouraged horrible things.

 

“Then does it matter why?” asked May simply, meeting his eyes. “Assume they're all the same woman and accept all of the facts that come with that. The worst case scenario is that you're wrong, but if your mind is drawing parallels, you likely aren't.”

 

“And if I am wrong?” questioned Phil, rubbing his eyes as his thoughts began to swirl again, painting an entirely different picture of Rowen than any he'd had before.

 

“Then some of your conclusions will be inaccurate,” replied May simply, standing up. “I don't know her as well as you do, but there are some things about her that have never made complete sense. Her age was one of them. If she isn't 30, then we don't know her age and she could easily have been all three women, in three different stages of her life.”

 

And there was the crux of the matter: he didn't know how old she actually was (probably pretty old if she's an alien Goddess, though maybe not). He didn't know where she was born or where she was actually from or even where their daughter was born. How had Skye ended up in China if Rowen was supposedly from Ireland? She definitely spoke Celtic fluently and with great ease; he had no doubts it was her first language. And that was the other matter: if she's a goddess then how much of her life was a lie? Was she really in the IRA? Had she actually left because a bomb had killed innocent people and it sickened her? Who was her mother actually, if she wasn't human? Too many questions, too many lies to sort through.

 

“I think I need a white board,” muttered Phil, shaking his head as the thoughts over-whelmed him.

 

“Focus on what's important Phil, don't focus on the details,” advised May as she threw back the rest of the alcohol and headed for the door. “Figure out what matters most and push the rest aside. It's insubstantial in the long run and right now, those questions will only drive you crazy.”

 

“Thanks,” muttered Phil as he heard his door open and shut, dropping his head against his desk when she was gone. She was right, of course. He needed to figure out what was important and push everything else away.

 

So what was important?

 

Skye. Skye was important. How she was conceived, who her mother was, none of it mattered. What mattered was that she was his daughter and she was safe. The only questions that mattered were the ones that dealt with Skye.

 

Pulling out a notebook, he began to jot down questions. He'd record the answers he had now and set aside a list to ask Rowen when he felt he could talk to her again. When his list pertaining to Skye was done, he flipped a few pages further in and began another list, one that pertained to Rowen. The details may not matter now, but they would eventually and he wanted to record what he knew now so he'd know what to ask later, if he ever wanted to ask.

 

Throughout this whole thing, he'd been vilifying Rowen because of her father, because she'd lied to him. But if she was the woman from Boston, if she was Peggy, maybe there were reasons for her lies. What she was doing on Earth, he couldn't begin to guess. And maybe those were the questions he needed to be asking: not who she was or what her past was, but how she could have changed so dramatically in 33 years and why she was hiding who she was. If she was a goddess, why would she hide that? Why would she take the time to pretend to be human when she could probably smash them all? Why go through this whole elaborate ruse? And if she wasn't working for her father like she claimed, why do any of this?

 

Enough of the whats, he needed to start asking why.

 

\-----------------------------

 

The pencil arched as it flew across the room, bouncing off the door. Sadly, it brought Phil very little satisfaction. What had began as an attempt to sort through his thoughts had only ended in pure frustration. Why? Because he had more questions than answers. He was looking at more assumptions and general information than he was facts. And it was beyond frustrating.

 

After completing May's proposed exercise, the questions bothering him from before had begun to leak back into his mind. It was like those questions had latched onto his mind and refused to let go. Part of him had been hoping that by writing down everything he knew about Rowen and Skye, either because they had told him or because he had evidence supporting the information, he could maybe begin to pick up on a few patterns. Maybe see something he'd been missing before that might answer a few of the questions he had. Sadly, the exercise was only making him angry- largely because it was revealing just how little he actually _knew_ and how much he was relying on assumptions. Groaning, he glanced back down at the five pieces of paper lay that in front of him.

 

The first was at time line of his life from when he moved to Boston through his death. Every woman he could remember sleeping with from that time period was marked on the time line. Suffice to say, there was almost no actual _line_ for his teenage years- it was more like a big block of black. He definitely wasn't going to let anyone see that.

 

The second piece listed two columns of information: everything Rowen had ever told him about herself and everything he actually knew to be true. The actual differential between the two was frighteningly drastic. How much of what she'd told him was true and how much was a lie? How much of her life had she made up? On a second sheet beneath the first, he'd started listing broad questions that were supposed to provide him with a broader understanding of who she was. Unfortunately, that plan went by the wayside five questions in and the questions had become too specific to be helpful. Only about three of the questions were crossed off to boot. Again, the amount of information he could confirm about her was remarkably scary. As little as he could get on Skye when they'd brought her on-board the Bus, which would be impressive if Rowen didn't work for SHIELD; her working for SHIELD made it scary.

 

But it was the last two sheets he was trying to focus on- emphasis on the _trying_. The first sheet was just like the one for Rowen, only it focused on Skye. Everything he knew about her from what he'd been told to what he could confirm was sketched out in front of him. There was just slightly more information in her 'confirmed' column than Rowen's, owing largely to the fact she lived with them. Plus at least Phil knew who her parents actually were, both of them. He could only confirm one of Rowen's. The second one was a question's sheet, and this list was significantly shorter than Rowen's. Skye was also a lot more transparent than her mother in some ways. Still though, this particular exercise had revealed exactly how little he knew about both women.

 

Glancing up at the monitor of his computer, he let his mind just blank for a moment as he stared at the two pictures displayed. To the left was an image of Rowen- one he'd taken personally. She'd been smiling in the moment, looking at something to her left (Jasper with spaghetti on his head if he remembered correctly). It was a personal shot, one that he'd kept closer than he cared to admit. And to the right of that image, was one of Skye. It was again a personal shot, one he'd snatched while she was curled on the couch with Ward, Simmons, and Fitz watching a movie. Ward was asleep and Skye had her head balanced on his shoulder as she watched the film. Looking between the two, Phil could see how they were related. He could see the similarity in the two women: their hair, bodies, and expressions were similar, though not exact. Their relation was easy to spot. Mother and daughter, his family. The family he damn well wanted for most of his life. He could have had it, if he'd only known.

 

And that fact, the fact that he could have had the family he'd been wanting since he was in the Rangers if someone had just told him they existed, made him see red. He'd tried to convince himself he shouldn't be mad- that Rowen had no way of telling him they had a child together when Skye was born. She didn't even know his real name at the time. Maybe she really hadn't realized they'd been together; maybe she was like him in that regard. Maybe she hadn't drawn the conclusions he only was now.

 

Sighing, Phil set aside the sheets on Skye for a moment and just stared at the ones concerning Rowen. Skye he could talk to. He could ask her questions. But Rowen... _She probably won't even speak to me if I call. Not that I want to try at this point. I'm too mad to speak with her right now anyway._

 

If he removed everything she'd told him from consideration, assumed it was all false except maybe what she'd said in their last conversation, there were only a handful of things he could confirm: she wasn't a full human, she was older than thirty, Loki was her father, Skye was her daughter, she'd helped bring him back to life, and she had slept with him at some point twenty-five years ago. Presumably, she could also preform some form of magic, but he couldn't confirm that part yet. Though, again, with Loki as a father, the chances she knew some magic was high.

 

If May was right, he'd slept with her in Germany. If his brain really was making connections he couldn't understand, she might also be the same woman he'd slept with in the alley in Boston. She might be the person who saved him from throwing his life away on the street or in the ring. That was a reality that was going to be even harder for him to face if it was true. _Focus on Rowen, Phil, not the implications of what she's done for you or you sleeping with her three times by coincidence. Focus on what you know about her. and what she might know._

 

What she might know, now there was a concept. She'd seemed completely floored when he'd told her about Skye, so did she really think their child was dead all these years? Did she know they'd slept together twice before she joined S.H.I.E.L.D.? She had to know at least when she got pregnant, unless she slept with a lot of different men.

 

Looking at how many people she'd slept with since joining S.H.I.E.L.D. though, he doubted that. Jasper didn't count because, well, all they'd done was confirm Jasper was very much gay. He couldn't even function when they tried. Then there was his brother's wedding and the drunken night that followed between them. After his brother's wedding, Markson had swept her up and that had been that. She hadn't touched anyone else to his knowledge. Three men total in eight years, and Jasper she'd assumed wouldn't be able to go through with it in the first place (a completely correct assumption on her part). Dropping his head back against the desk, Phil tried to actually think this through.

 

Could he really expect her to draw these same conclusions? Eight years did pass between Boston and Germany after all and they both clearly changed a lot between. But if she was the woman from Boston, what happened to her between Boston and Germany? They were two completely different women. It was so much of a 180, Phil could barely believe they were the same person. Their only similarities had been their appearances and closed off natures. English hadn't been their first language, but at least Peggy had spoken English. Er, Rowen. At least Rowen had spoken English by the time they met in Germany.

 

Rowen as Peggy was less shocking the more he thought about it. There had been times he'd seen the Peggy in his friend, particularly when she was overwhelmed. When that happened, it was like she shut down, but not in the same way the woman from Boston had been shut down. It was more the way Peggy had been edgy in the bar they met in. That woman from Boston...she'd been like a robot and the only time Phil had seen anything to the contrary was when he had her against the wall. Still, he could see the resemblance physically. A memory rose from Phil's mind then, unbidden, from around the time Rowen had first began with SHIELD.

 

_She was hunched over her desk, headphones on, playing one of many recordings she needed to transcribe and decode for some op or another. The giant black headset was almost comic looking on her given it's size, but he didn't laugh. That was probably a good way to earn a glare from her, which he didn't want. Even if she did look hot when she glared at him with eyes that said she was going to cause him pain. She didn't react as he approached, too absorbed in her work, and he was directly behind her before anything happened._

 

_His hand was inches from her shoulder when her headset was suddenly off and he was on the ground. How she'd heard him approaching when she'd been wearing headphones that blocked out all noise, he didn't know. But instead of looking up to meet the eyes of the translator he was doing his best to become friends with, he found himself face to face with a dead-eyed woman bearing her face._

 

_For a heart pounding second, there was no recognition in her eyes concerning who he was. No emotion, no humanity, nothing. It was as if Rowen was replaced with a disconnected monster who'd stolen her skin. Then had come the blink, the hard blink, and recognition had come flooding back. She stood rapidly, helped him up, apologized profusely, everything. But her voice had been flat, her whole body tensed for a fight. He'd never seen her so far into fight-mode before. She'd turned him down for lunch, stating she had far too much work to do and returned to her chair as if the entire incident hadn't happened._

 

_He might have believed it didn't too, especially because she seemed back to normal when he stopped by for a second time to drop some food off for her. She'd smiled at him, though it was tighter than normal, said her thanks and even chatted with him for a few minutes before returning to work. He left feeling like he'd spoken to their newest recruit and not some killing machine in disguise._

 

It was only a drop-by visit from Jasper asking if he was alright later that confirmed the incident had happened. Apparently, Rowen had asked him to check up on Phil because she wasn't able to get away from her work to do it herself. How he'd forgotten that, he wasn't sure. It was the only time he'd ever actually felt threatened by her. Something in her eyes...

 

A knock broke through the room, drawing Phil sharply from his thoughts. “AC? I've got something.”

 

_Shit, Skye._ Quickly, Phil threw the papers into the first drawer of his desk and made sure the glasses he'd been using with May earlier were hidden away. “Enter.”

 

Skye pushed open the door with her laptop balanced in one hand, her face set in the serious line he'd seen more often than not in the past week. Ever since he'd told her what he knew about her origins.  _And now you know more, only you're too much of a coward to speak up._ “What have you found Skye?”

 

“Quinn,” stated Skye simply, bringing her computer over so he could see the monitor. “And something I think you'll want to see.”

 

 


End file.
